


Can't get right

by Poppyseed



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, Louis is really ghetto, M/M, Projects AU, Racism, seemed fun at the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1480426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppyseed/pseuds/Poppyseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This level of camaraderie between Louis and Harry should be momentous but it’s not so much that it is happening than why it is happening that makes Zayn lose his voice. He looks over at Niall who is as quiet as can be taking in the discussion with mild interest. And there's that itch again</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yup none of this is real and i took some major liberties with the words 'creative license', so ha yeah. Based some of the stuff on conversations i myself have overheard and stuff. There's a bunch of ebonics there

"Fuck L I just got these!"

 

"What you need to do is stop being such a cheap fucking bastard and get some real kicks. What the fuck is 'Diddas' 'nyway. You gotta do better," L offers his timeless advice while flinging the shoe back at Harry after unsuccessfully attempting to bend it in half but still relishing the slight gossamer cracks that appear between the shoe's foxing and midsole.

 

"Prick" Harry slips his foot back into his knock offs, just a little peeved, not without Zayn noticing that Harry tends to favour the colour burgundy solely, in regards to tube socks.

 

"Get a real haircut while you’re at it" L suggests sparing a glance from a couple goons squatting on the curb across the street some houses over. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his abundant denim shorts 90 degree weather.

 

"Whatever man" Harry dismisses his comments, well tries anyway because it’s rather obvious he's a little incensed, what with his ears turning a bashful red and all.

 

Zayn's about filled his daily quota of idling on Harry's front porch. Sun's getting in his eyes, his palms are getting clammy, bordering on sopping discomfort but, over and above everything, he figures, he's dead bored. The summer's on its last knees and he's a little more than relived that the school year is round the corner.

 

There's only so much to be done with ample time on your hands that won't land you in trouble with the cops or some such things and in all honesty he'd rather avoid that trajectory all together, never leads anywhere pleasant. He’s also scared, not admittedly though, that committing to these thoughts might contradict the entire purpose of having them. You can always have more, like L so astutely suggested ‘do better’ although Zayn would rather submit himself to more appealing forms of peer pressure for example trying to sneak their way into the sticky purple velour-seated back rooms of a nearby ‘gentleman’s club’ to see if they’ll run into anyone they know.

 

When all that’s said and done though it really is no big secret what wilful youth, aimlessness and hovering on perpetual broke-ness amount to. Therefore, his vacation has been marked with relatively okay blueberry fatty's in L’s rusty derelict Impala '64 and Harry skimming off his mom's purse and liquor cabinet when he’s feeling just on this side of desperate.

 

Zayn got laid off a little before summer began, constantly showing up late and random bouts of forgetfulness, sometimes operating with what seemed like zombie-like precision when it came to working the counter, stroke that broke the camel's back and etc. One simply cannot overestimate the importance of asking the extra 80 cents needed to pay for a box of Fruit Roll ups from Mrs. Patterson and her damned low blood sugar.

 

Fuck, Zayn thinks it wouldn’t hurt Wilson to show a little more gratitude; at times the only thing that stood between filing errant insurance claims and/or mortal injury was him. Considering he knew most of the hoods who tried to rip off the place, he'd consequently have to bribe them with free beer and smokes that would come out of pocket to ensure most of the merchandise remained unscathed.

 

Tradition maintains that the aim is not only appropriation but also gratuitous destruction, seemingly reaffirming that good ol’ ‘hey we were here’. And hell yeah it was a raw deal local businesses got handed when it came to operating in the environs of the projects but Zayn could bet his sweaty, dissolving last dollar sitting pretty in his sock, that those wretched little jobs these kids pulled were probably the only thing that actually presented their existence as part of A society.

 

Gangs, the stuff of myth and legend, their ideals and methodologies horribly horribly warped basing the entire shebang on manipulation and policies being rivaled only by the ridiculousness that is Mutual Assured Destruction. Then again you can never underestimate the power of fear especially when the thing, ‘homies’ and all, could spin on a dime right on you. But Zayn’s not going to deny recognizing the allure of a brotherhood however conditional, nor the false hope they offer of something more, something terribly unobtainable.(Hey maybe half the fun’s in the trying and failing). But what if the alternative is nothing but a deep intangible loneliness and feeling like the rug was pulled from under you before you even had the chance to put your feet on the ground? And who wants to tackle with feelings of that bearing anyway. And being 14 does not necessarily equip you with the wherewithal to realize that the cost of this pursuit of belonging and accomplishment might be your life or much more tragic, that creeping black eye; fear, in the face of big shiny things in big shiny houses across town.

 

At any rate they usually took the offered merch and hoofed it out of there and on to the next convenience store on the line.

 

After the news of his current unemployment met his mother, she just looked at him with those big honey dew drop eyes, that acquire newer deeper cracks every time she casts them his way (this fact alone affords Zayn with such a compelling guilt he would rather not go home at all sometimes) and says it's alright. But it never has been. The extra pay check wasn't much but it helped. Minimum wage is better than nothing; he at least had a little money to avoid those eyes with. It was kind of laughable in that helpless kind of way, too rich to qualify for better welfare too poor to actually get by. Getting another job was a bit of a tall order seeing as nobody was hiring. That was most likely the case, doesn’t mean it didn’t hit home when Louis told him, with as much tenderness as he could bodily muster that he was the not-particularly-hireable kind of brown.

 

“I warned him. I warned that motherfucker to stay off my block" unfortunately, Louis rouses his attention.

 

"What are you talking about?" Z can't help but ask even though he immediately knows he won't like the answer.

 

“Pookie, he's doing sumthin', looks flagrant from where i'm standing" L's on his tippy toes, nose in the air like a bloodhound.

 

"Pookie's not doing nothin', that boy's slow" Harry offers but seems to have also taken interest in the activities taking place down the street.

 

"Naw naw he's up to something, why are they crowding like that?"

 

"Think L, why would they be doing whatever it is in the middle of the street in broad daylight. Even Pookie's not that dumb."

 

Louis turns to face Harry dead in the eye, resolute, "listen here don't act like you know anything about what goes down here. You live in your own little world where you jack off to unicorns and your mom's tits, now go drink bleach and fuck off"

 

Harry simply shrugs and looks away.

 

"You calling Pookie slow, I told you to fuck the hell of, what are you still doing here" Louis’ fist is in a tight ball at his side.

 

"L step off" Zayn says, things don't need to escalate any further and he knows Harry enough to realize he won't fight back if things do get there. There's no possible way that Louis isn't aware of this too. Harry's distaste for violence is renowned, too much GTA and he's queasy. He's the only kid on the block with a console though, granted it is a pre-owned indented PS2 with a single controller but it suffices. Harry ever so graciously grins and bears it just like he’ll grin and bear this.

 

It’s not like Zayn doesn’t know what L’s doing right now; he pulls this shit all the time. Nobody here can be said to be saddled by something as trivial as subtlety, no. No need, no space for it. So L’s little misdirect must be taken within stride. So what, he’s scared that something might be happening that he has no knowledge of. Harry just happens to provide the perfect opportunity for him to flex his macho posturing muscle.

 

"Tell him to keep his mouth shut then," Harry's already looking out of it and shakes his head at Zayn sending him a wordless 'don't bother' and huffs into the house, screen door swinging shut after him. He feels sorry for Harry, sorrier for L.

 

"Alright, let's go," Louis proceeds in apparent total ignorance of what just happened.

 

"You don't always have to be such a dick to him and go where?"

 

"See what's up with Pookie” he says disregarding the first part of Zayn's statement.

 

Zayn looks down the street and the crowd has gotten substantially larger around six or seven more standing now but even more distinguishing, so has the number of bulky white T shirts. And it might be a relatively harmless game of rolling dice or cee lo but conventional wisdom not to mention experience goes against this reasoning. “I ain't going anywhere with you L 'specially not there".

 

"Stop being a pussy Z, nothing's happening there," L's smart alright, Zayn deduces. Louis is his oldest friend so he knows what he’s talking about. He’s gotten himself out of more tight spots than he can count(which begs the question wouldn’t it be healthier, for both mind and body, to avoid those situations completely; beside the point) but sometimes he gets so side- tracked by his own dim sighted ambition he fails to realize he's just full of shit, mostly.

 

"You just said Pookie's got something cooking on the curb, how is that nuthin?"Zayn says feeling the ghost of a smile somewhere within which he cannot let materialize.

 

Louis seems irritated by the turn the conversation has taken either that or he’s not ready for the level of coddling that Zayn might require to get him to comply "are you comin' or what?” He asks deciding to leave it as is and jog to the cluster. Zayn relents and trails after him, seeing as power in numbers holds true on occasion and stuff although that might put the two of them at a marked disadvantage with this principle in mind.

 

"Big L!" A hearty welcome from dreds with the crackling smile greets Louis offering him a one armed hug and slapping him on the back with the other. Zayn remembers his name as something along the lines of...hmm I spy with my little eye something starting with J? He smiles big and goofy at Zayn saying " Z, my man," melodically executing the same hug and Zayn finds it funny because he can count the number of times he has exchanged words with Dreds here on one hand.

 

Louis pushes his way into the mass with a purpose and a "where's Pookie at?" Zayn looks down to the little clearing at the center of the crowd to infer the goings on of the spontaneous assembly and this time he's relieved he was wrong. There's a plastic crate on the ground, half empty, but the occupied slots filled with Rolling Rock beer bottles. At which point he realizes once he looks up that each of the members in the gathering is cradling a green bottle.

 

Dreds hands Zayn one and tells him to have a seat, naturally on the curb. It is not lost on Zayn how much more time he spends on curbs than he does in his own home. He also won't ask questions about where the beer came from because he knows he won’t get an answer plus there doesn't seem to be much point to it especially where free beer is the topic.

 

Louis, on the other hand seems to have located his target. Pookie's sat on the ground looking up at Louis with big round vacant eyes saying "hey Louis" drawling, his red mouth hanging agape afterwards.

 

"Pookie remember what we talked about last week?” Louis crouches in front of him and uses his most patronizing tone when asking (patronizing Louis being quite a formidable Louis at that). "Yeah Louis" Pookie manages sighing, slumping further into his bulbous stomach.

 

"So you haven't been talking to...you know..?" Louis gives a furtive glance around the group to find an empty audience. Boys busy talking amongst themselves in amused animated tones.

 

"No Louis I ‘aven't." Pookie replies like a child might to its guardian, dutiful and enervated all at once.

 

But now, Zayn is pulled from Pookie and Louis intrigues (it’s like watching a Rockwell painting with those two) because Chauncey, with the gold capped incisors, knee high white socks under his shorts and thick square glasses begs his attention. He’s relaying, with a strange amount of detail, how he swiped ASAP Rocky's new album from the record store right near the deli with the smelly picnic meats.

 

Zayn sincerely hopes Chauncey will be a writer or something like that in the future because, excluding the fact that the store actually sells vinyl and stuff exclusively from the 70s and 80s, his story is pretty entertaining and his metaphors, nothing but solid gold (runnin’ faster than my stomach on sloppy joe day). He’s the highlight of Zayn’s day, he really is. Makes Zayn forget, for a couple of minutes anyway, that, he is in fact sitting on the dusty ground drinking dirt cheap beer that resembles and tastes like tepid fish oil while the sunset dances in its sway over the sirens and stray souls awash in his town.

 

~

 

The 15 minute plus walk to Niall’s place seems like an easy resolution to Zayn. It'll probably eat into his morning somewhat, but seeing as he hadn't woken up as early as he’d anticipated in any case, he figures no harm, no foul. It is for a good cause anyway. Louis noise level will register moderate at best on the Richter scale.

 

He does the one-two rap at Niall's door wiping the sweat off on his jeans once he’s done and a few minutes later he stumbles blearily into sight after a handful of bumps he hears emanate from the inside of the house and the string of four letter words that generally follow. Still crumpled and worse for wear he emerges. Zayn tracks the venous design the bedding pressed into the skin of his arms while his eyes frantically will away the sharpness outside the door, he greets Zayn with his brightest way-too-early-morning smile stepping out of the threshold to give him way.

 

It's a comprehensive sort of darkness that meets you once you press on, illumination being supplied only by a couple of loose planks hanging off of the windows that have been boarded up as long as Zayn can hope to remember. He knows Niall's mother will take care of that as soon as she notices cracks of natural light seeping into the living room.

 

"Wait a sec," Niall says from somewhere near, Zayn assumes his left, he can feel his movements teasing away at the edge of his senses. The amber lights flicker on a few seconds later as promised.  
"Shit in the fuse box’s been acting up lately, wasn't sure if the lights would work or not" he says distracted by the wavering light bulbs.

 

Zayn nods and gives the surroundings a once over, appraisingly, not too sure why himself, nothing has ever changed as far as he can tell but he does feel like it’s been the longest time since he’s seen the inside of Niall’s house.

 

The furnishings may be sparse, otherwise it's an efficient little shindig they have in operation here. The living room and adjoining kitchen is fairly neat and there's a single couch facing the TV both of which Zayn knows are older than time. Still the couch might be tattered in some places and the TV might as well have dials but the former looks a starched white and the latter burnished to perfection. She keeps everything obsessively methodically clean, as a hospital, with the same heavy sterile air that bodes that something dreadful happened here.

 

Niall walks into the kitchenette in a when-the-light-hits-it-just-so see through shirt, and boxers prompting, "you hungry?"

 

Zayn shakes his head and shakes it loose, muttering an "I’m fine." He continues since the ice has been appropriately broken, " me, L and Harry are gonna check out the junk yard at Greene's. He said he found like a car battery or some shit the other day. Thinks it might be worth a couple of bucks," which finally brings him to the meat of the matter, looking his way when he says it "wanna come?"

 

Ni walks back into the living room with a bowl in each hand and sets one on Zayn's lap. Zayn hopes the poor lighting covers his no doubt dopey grin. "Yeah for sure, just lemme finish this and we can go".

 

They proceed with the cereal accordingly while Zayn mulls over Niall's absence for the preceding three days. Even coming here was a bit of a shot in the proverbial, not to mention oddly fitting, dark. But Zayn thinks he’s got this itch dead center between his shoulder blades that must be scratched.

 

Niall and his mother's gray little two bedroomed Section 8 success story is located right at the end of a cull de sac within the murky heart of a fairly effective public housing project. Well most of the residential buildings are tolerably habitable at present so Zayn figures it must be effective in some respects. The neighborhood was built on an abandoned industrial site which harkens back to the words ‘dregs of society’, the very same ones that conjure up images of broken hash pipes on the street and an unrelenting aversion to law enforcement. Still they don’t call it The Trap for no reason, it’s a seamless descent leading you anywhere but out, although the risk of homes being razed and turned into strip malls and highways still looms large.

 

Zayn himself lives in one of the couple of low rise apartment buildings in the recesses of the project a few blocks from Harry and Louis’ houses. Therefore it goes without saying the walk to Niall's place at 7 am in the brisk morning air did not seem like a very attractive occupation to be undertaking. But his options were limited seeing as the alternative was spending an entire day silently and thoroughly fretting over Niall's whereabouts.

 

He peels his gaze away from the bowl looking over at Niall clearing his own when he realizes just how firmly he had set his attention on the thing. In essence, subconscious or otherwise, avoiding further interaction with him and this. Is. new. He’s also not completely certain which one of them is the one doing it either.

 

Nevertheless, Niall finishes and disappears into the narrow hallway emerging a few minutes later in the same shirt and green shorts that fray at the hems coming under his knees.

 

He yanks the key sitting on the kitchen counter and loops it around his neck, like clockwork, "Let's go".

 

When they do arrive outside Harry's door, Louis is standing next to an indifferent Harry while he on the other hand is, without question livid. Zayn is in fact surprised there isn't any cartoon steam coming out of his ears.

 

"Why doesn’t anybody ever listen to anything I say? 6 in the morning I said, 6, who even knows what fucking time it is" his hands are waving in the air and his tone has now adopted that of profound exasperation like he's honestly baffled by the level of insubordination continually exhibited by these people. Like he can’t believe this is the best he can do in terms of ‘his boys’.

 

“Hi Ni", Harry says from his step on the front porch. Niall responds by raising his eyebrows and lifting his chin. Zayn kind of wants to laugh.

 

“Can we just go. You've wasted enough time, the only thing left there'll be worthless shit," L is adamant.

 

"L the only people creeping the streets that early is d boys and hoes." Zayn provides just as an aside.

 

"Whatever, I’m not even seeing your ass right now man" L begins to walk in the direction of the scrap yard.

 

The rest of the journey proceeds in similar fashion with Louis leading the charge and denying highly any ability he has in 'seeing' Zayn. He kind of hoped that he’d at least keep the hissy fit at a mild bubbling but Louis is doing the full blown dejected toddler bit so Zayn lets him ride it out. At some point, though, Harry leans in real close and glances over at Niall and Louis ensuring that they are otherwise occupied and in the universal indicator of 'for your ears only' asks Zayn low and gruff, "where was Ni?"

 

Even Zayn doesn't know the answer to this question so he provides the only one he can, he shrugs.

 

Greene's junk yard is in fact, disappointingly, just a messy back yard. Greene, the aforementioned owner of the house and the connecting yard hovers around his shaded windows and gazes disapprovingly if dumpster divers and scavengers, not unlike this little group of miscreants here get too loud. Other than that he ordinarily keeps to himself which of course means nothing but mystery and a certain obligatory charm shrouds his name.

 

Louis immediately bounds for the heap he supposedly spotted the car battery in and starts sifting through it. There are mounds of decaying metal and spare parts arranged along the edges of the yard with the middle left free from debris therefore giving a makeshift workspace. Zayn spots a number of old paint cans pushed up on one the sides of the fences but doesn’t place too much confidence in finding any paint in them. Might have been fun to fool around with though. Niall and Harry, likewise rummage through varied degrees of worthless dreck for the fun of it.

 

This is why it comes as absolutely no surprise when Louis kicks up his feet in frustration yelling “it ain't here, it ain't here Z." Clearly because Z holds the key to everything that has ever happened he should be able to determine exactly where Louis’ mythical car battery went. Although he’s sure if L had bothered to actually ask beforehand Z would’ve explicitly informed him this was certainly going to be a fruitless endeavor.

 

They all watch as Louis tears apart any semblance of organization the pile had assumed while it all clatters around his feet, reiterating the fact, "It ain't here! We shoulda came earlier."

 

Zayn moves to place a calming hand on his shoulder, “hey man slow down. Don't trip."

 

Louis keeps going at it until the whole thing comes tumbling down in a series of loud clangs. Everybody stills when there's a mild stirring at one of the windows that overlook the back yard.

 

"The fuck you tellin' me not to trip when the damn battery's gone?" Louis whisper-shouts at Zayn who stares airily at L's destructive handiwork.

 

"Just calm do..." he doesn't get to finish his remarks due to Harry and his untimely interruptions. He's on his haunches beside the crumpled heap saying "guys you gotta check this out."

 

Zayn wants to tell him ‘no not now Harry’ because “untimely” is one thing and this is another. Harry means well and Zayn bets whatever he found is real neat, real neat, but not now. Not when he’s dealing with a live wire not when he could pull his hair out with the number of times this has happened and he had to diffuse a situation. But it’s actually L who gets dragged into Harry’s machinations before Zayn even looks down at him.

 

When he does realize what Harry's lingering over, a cold dread settles itself snug within the coils of Zayn’s gut. He half wants to run away because there’s no way, especially when it looked like they had done such a commendable job staying away from shit like this. His shoulders sag at the fact that it is there so imagining it away gets ruled out and he's sure as shit that as soon as his synapses start firing again he's going to wretch the rainbow colored confection Niall fed him in the morning, before the day took on a frightful new hue.

 

Right before their eyes, must have been right at the bottom of L's pile of junk is an almost brand new handgun, lying heavy and awfully present.

 

"What the fuck,” L breathless, moves from beside Zayn with an almost blind intent, crouching to pick it up. He takes it up by the handle all careful like and lays it flat on the palms of his hands. Takes a long hard look like he can't believe it's really there. Zayn looks from the gun to Louis, it’s quite dizzying.

 

After a few moments of silence that probably conveys the collective "holy shit" running through their heads Harry pipes up the obvious, "put that back L." And Zayn knows this boy, could’ve smelt the bullshit blowing in the wind from a mile away. He already knows Harry’s going to get diddly squat done with the way Louis is looking at that clip like he was dying of thirst and got dropped in a fountain filled with Grey Goose and hookers.

 

L looks up from the gun sitting stoic in his hands and utters words both astonishing and unbelievably sincere that Zayn cuts short whatever moves he was planning on making "why?" Like a kid in a candy store being asked to please leave.

 

Harry’s hands move to his hair pulling at the ends irritated by ostensibly more than Louis' odd demand, "because it's a gun."

 

"Yeah, so what?" which was in no way, shape or form a request for a clarification.

 

"Stop arguing with us L. Now you put that back where you found it," Zayn throws in his undeniably useless two cents. He can’t just stand there watching goddammit. Not even when L seems to be becoming one with that gun. Not one more thing on that list that he simply can’t help. A matte black finish with the serial plate ground down.

 

"Why are all of you acting like you've never seen a piece before," as he finishes saying this, he pops out the magazine with a skill that makes Zayn cringe. The problem might be that they’ve seen too many. Bullets, of course it's loaded because nothing would make sense unless a bad situation turns into a worse one. 4 of them slide out of the magazine tube when L pushes them out with his thumb. The ball wedged in Zayn’s insides seems to work in conjunction with L’s smile. Louis can’t help himself; his wheels turn with a flourish.

 

Harry drops fully to the ground and sighs “you can't be serious. That's probably evidence you're messing with L. You know somebody's block got shot up with that thing."

 

"How do you know that? And anyway finders keepers. If some shit head dropped their strap here or whatever cause it was hot then they'll probably not want it back," he states quite matter-of-factly and packs the bullets in the gun.

 

Niall, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, maybe no more than he had taken up lately (nah, these will not be Zayn's present thoughts), cries out from behind Harry, "why are you doing this, just stop L, stop it. You never know when to quit." He shakes with a fierceness Zayn has never witnessed before, anger that is too primal to be sustainable. Now this here he can’t look away from. Niall peters out at the end in a piteous sigh. His chest is rising and falling with such a weight that Zayn’s afraid he might pass out.

 

Louis, ever the soul of reason and understanding that he is, doesn't seem particularly affected by the outburst as he's still fiddling with the GLOCK.

 

Niall flings the rusty oil dipstick he had in his hand, which he had taken to having an improvised sword fight with Harry, in whatever direction it fancies being flung, turning around and scuttling wholly resigned out of Greene's yard. Probably not caring too much about the impact of his words.

If it really is about how you say and not what you say Zayn would be feeling the weight of a thousand worlds completely wracked with guilt after that. He makes to follow after Niall but Harry's already up, shooting L a look that's completely free of the venom he tries and fails horribly to communicate and disappears behind the fence.

 

"That boy needs to stop being so damn sensitive about everything," L mentions once Harry has dipped out of sight.

 

"Don’t turn this ‘round on him, you know full well why he’s upset,” Zayn crosses his arms atop his chest aiming for a more assertive tone. Louis on the other hand favors swatting his statement away inspecting the gun more closely.

 

“What exactly do you want to keep the gun around for?" Zayn more than anything, right now, would love to just leave him be, to just let him have his day because he will pay for it later. But the thing is, when it comes down to the wire it’s not just Louis who’ll pay. So will everybody he knows.

 

"You kidding me?” and oh he’s excited now, “I got a gun without having to snatch one of a guy, i'm keeping this", he says standing his ground.

 

"L c'mon, you can't sell it. Nobody's gonna touch that shit. And please tell me you ain't planning on keepin' that thing in the house."

 

He doesn't reply. Shoves the gun in his pocket and starts out of junk yard.

 

"L answer me,” Zayn shuffles behind him "answer me!"

 

He comes to an abrupt halt not meeting Zayn’s eyes at all with his head bowed he says, “you weren't there man, you weren't there."

 

Zayn wants to reach out to him, it seems like it should be the suitable thing to do but that might interrupt Louis and he can’t do that right now," you weren't there when Fiz came asking me where lil' Kelly went. Why she doesn't come out to play with her anymore, if she did something wrong. And that little girl's got no idea it coulda been her instead 'a Kelly. She'd be lying in a lil box in the ground right now and i wouldn't 'av been able to do nothing to stop it. So Z, please, not now not ever, don’t tell me what I can and cannot do". He watches the strained rise and fall of L's shoulders feeling like the wind has been knocked right out of him. A flare of this warm stilling thing surges and Zayn, has no answers.

 

Say what you want about him but he is reminded exactly why he’s still friends with this dirt bag. Even after all. He nuts up placing his hand finally on Louis’ shoulder realizing what he just did in his weird round-about way, that not just anybody gets this privilege. He showed his age.

 

"Lou you gotta know how sorry I am. I got sisters to look out for too and I’m scared out of my life everyday they walk outta the door that they ain't coming back. But you gotta believe me when I say nothin’ good’s gonna come outta having that thing around."

 

L pokes him right on the sternum with his fore finger, “you might think like that but how many people you think are like that too. Imma tell you, none. Nobody here at least. I’m not gonna pretend to be a saint in the gutter and I know half the guys on the block would shit on my corpse if it helped them get ahead someway.”

 

“You can’t seriously think that Lou, you can’t,” Zayn desperately hopes the sting he feels around his eyes is not what he thinks it is.

 

L huffs, “Z, me and you we are different people. Think I can’t see that? One day I know you’re gonna pack up everything you got and this shithole’s all gonna be in your rearview and I’m still gonna be stuck here grindin’. So I gotta do what I gotta do.”

 

Zayn wants to say he’s crazy, that he only reached the 8th grade he doesn’t know what he’s talking about but one has nothing to do with the other. Nothing’s assured in this life especially the kind they lead. Nothing but the end and Zayn will be damned if he sits back, watching while his boy, his best friend meets a premature one lying in the dark on the side of the road. And no one will have seen nothin’ no one will know nothin’. Because it always starts somewhere. He swears, everything every fucking thing under the sun feels like it’s out of his control. This helplessness has to be the worst part. A man can only take so much before he fights back and in this case he fights with everything he’s got ‘cause he’s fighting for his life. Whatever the sentiment may be the results are no less disastrous.

 

“Lou guns hurt people. Even the ones you love.”

 

And Zayn can almost see the barrier shift back into place, "Yeah, see, you might be able to live with that, but not me."

 

~

 

9th Grade Physics: Pascal’s principle, also called Pascal’s law, in fluid mechanics; a fluid at rest in a closed container, a pressure change in one part is transmitted without loss to every portion of the fluid and to the walls of the container.  
Pressure is equal to the force divided by the area on which it acts.

 

_

 

Zayn tries to ignore the steps he hears as someone scales their way up the stairs of the fire escape. Most of the surrounding neighborhood has dropped off into darkness only the muffled erratic beats of a Daddy Yankee song thumping from some car a block away. If somebody's trawling around at this hour their doing it with purpose. A purpose he’d want to know less than anything else in the world. He watches as the smoke dissipates into the air thinking he should at least try to make a modest effort to kick the habit. Straddling the window adjacent to the metal steps he puts his head down not wanting to identify whoever the whatever is.

 

"Zayn"

 

"Niall?" He watches awestruck as Niall drops onto the window sill next to him. It’s a surprise to say the least, “what are you doing here, it's real late." Which should be the least of his concerns because he’s fighting the urge to put his hands on him to see if he really is there.

 

"Was over at Harry's. Kinda had to sneak out, don't think he'll be too happy about that." He absolutely won't which is outrageously beside the point, Niall's here.

 

After a pause to reassess, "you alright?"

 

He ducks his head in that haltingly endearing way he does and says "i'm fine."

 

"You know L"

 

"I know L"

 

"I mean i've known that boy my whole life and he's a lot of things but...."

 

"It's ok Zayn" his fingers drumming on the less than 6 inches of window sill white space between them.

 

He could just positively burst with this it’s alright malady that keeps going around. “No it's not. L doesn't think, he doesn't think. But he's like my fucking brother and there's like nothing I can do about that." He's talking too much, he's not saying enough. He's not saying the right things.

 

"You know as much of a dumb shit L is you gotta let it go ev'rytime he act up. His stupid ass probably needs you more than he needs anyone in the goddamn world. And your dumb as shit ass needs him." Zayn chuckles low in his chest secretly happy that Niall is using expletives generously in his speech again.

 

"He'd be seriously hurt or something if you weren't there, hope you know that. And he keeps you out of your head and stuff. You get weird and quiet sometimes."

 

Zayn doesn't know how to reply to Niall's observation. He could say something about pots and kettles although that seems to be nothing but pandering to an idiomatic vicious circle or he could point out he’s always been ‘weird and quiet’ but, he knows, maybe not necessarily towards Niall, so smoke billows smooth out of his lungs.

 

"We don't have shit, all we got is each other, can't put money on that." Niall says to fill up the space Zayn failed to.

 

Zayn smiles sideways and chides, “you seen Shugg and all them birds, 'parrently you can."

 

Niall shoves at his shoulder playfully, "you know what I mean."

 

He considers this; having nothing but the people you know, "Yeah man. But that strap’s got me feeling some type of way, Ni. I don't even know."

 

"Yeah I get it," Niall looks away toward the green rooftops peppered around the apartment and with that the mood decidedly changes, “I should probably get home," he announces at once.

 

Zayn drops his burnt out stub over the side of the metal balcony yanking Niall by the wrist leading him inside the window, "stop talking crazy. I’ma take you home in the morning."

 

"My ma's gonna get real worried," he hesitates standing still by the window looking outside like he can see her anxiety settled out there just waiting to ambush the second he comes down.

 

"I'll take you real early plus the fam hasn't seen ya in a while. I think they're getting tired of Harry's sasquatch ass always up here. You also gotta to see Dee, she's as big as the 5 o'clock bus," Zayn says already planning how two will fit on the lumpy blue pull-out couch.

 

Niall huffs out a laugh coming next to him, “how many months?"

 

Zayn tries to catch the exact values, "6 months, 12 days." Well he's pretty surprised by his own accuracy. He quickly suppresses the thought that he might be more interested in the matter than he allowed himself to think he is.

 

"How's Petey," Niall says inspecting the couch.

 

"Oh he's fine, can't you hear him snoring, waking up the dead. He's not runnin' round the street but he's a fucking dead beat if I ever did see one.” He continues because Niall’s looking at him now, “If he doesn't get his shit together moms said she's gonna kick him out. And she won't let him in the same room alone with Saf and Wah but that's cool cuz neither will I."

 

He moves sit on the coffee table, “Would it be bad if I said I really really hope it ain’t a girl?”

 

Niall looks on “why?”

 

“Cause I have no idea how my folks raised three girls in this place without breaking down. I look at Saf sometimes and think she didn’t do anything to deserve living in a place like this”, he gives a sigh feeling suddenly and very tired. He takes a second to reflect on Niall back at the junk yard, the stark industrial background, random metal cast off lying everywhere, his dewy blue gaze and, he's sure, fewer things have looked more wrong in his life.

 

And somehow that 'wrongness' transcends everything. Because here, now, in Zayn's family's living room, above all that's happening, the conversation, the conviviality, Zayn can’t really wrap around his head or his hand around Niall’s presence. He’s been elusive but never……..vague. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’s beyond thrilled Niall decided to scuttle through his window tonight but if he attempted it, he feels like he could push his hand through Niall’s stomach and he would sift wispily through his fingers. Like he’s here and he’s not and Zayn never thought he would be bothered enough to feel like this.

 

Niall gets up on the armchair, light from the streetlamp filtering through his hair as silver lace in the sun, he tangles his fingers and asks "how's Pop?" Like he's dipping his toe into the pool.

 

"Cool as can be. Prays three times a day and you will be woken up with Teddy Pendergrass mos' definitely," the hour being far too gone for anything but the light touch.

 

"Alright," he smiles shy having come to some parallel conclusion in his mind, adding, "nice," when he looks over Zayn’s arrangements of the sofa. The sarcasm doesn't go over Zayn's head.

 

He considers asking Niall about his own goings on, "I'll sleep on the floor, relax," is what comes out in lieu of his actual concerns.

 

Niall laughs high and crisp saying, "Man you already sleep on the couch in your own home, I’m not gonna put you on the floor. And nobody should sleep on the floor unless their drunk off their ass. We're po' we ain't animals dammit."

 

Examining the comforter and his mother's Afghan critically Zayn remarks, “fine, so how do you wanna do this? Head to feet or chest to chest?"

 

"There's no way you're makin' me sleep with your funky feet in my face. There's also only one pillow."

 

"My feet are not funky," Zayn must insist.

 

Niall takes off his shorts, kicks off his shoes and situates himself on one side of the couch. He turns away and giggles. It's such a strange sound compared to the overriding hush, compared to most things really if he thinks about it that Zayn stops stripping off his hoodie midway inquiring, "What?"

 

"Nothin' man." Once his impromptu giggle fit dies down he brings the comforter up to his shoulders.

 

"You're a real creep, hope you know that."

 

"Yeah yeah, just keep your icicle feet away from me."

 

_

 

Zayn’s plagued. Ask him he’ll tell you all about it. He’s a haunted man he’ll insist. He’ll say it’s something…something alright. It looked like it smelt like felt like it was orange. Yes yes orange. Conjures up images of an innate intoxicating warmth. Maybe maybe peach, plush and pliable, gentle slopes abounding. When it rolls out teasing and prodding he savors the prickly cold press of the glass for a little longer. And it, being nothing but a triumph when it releases something so burning so bruising, smoothly beckons him, “right there” onto a certainly, he’ll say, overpowering haze. And fucking shit he’d rather die on his knees if this will be his end. But then again see, you, will never ask and he, in turn, will never tell.

 

~

 

And while Zayn self flagellates over this unrelenting affliction roiling deep in his sleep, Niall will wake as the house sits in total stillness, slip under the covers with minor jostling, similarly slipping out of the door under the cover of the frigid lilac dawn.

 

~

 

"Hey honey had a good day at school?" L says standing up and extending his arms. He was clearly waiting for the three of them to arrive at Harry's stoop although admitting that would be a whole other story.

 

"Fuck off," Zayn bats him away when he attempts to give him a hug. Harry proceeds into the house leaving the three of them scrounging for seats on the front porch.

 

"While you was busy reading and bullshit in school I had to scare off Jamal. That boy still asking about Wah. We'll have to break his legs or something."

 

"The fuck, that raggedy hood rat does not know how to back down."

 

"Remember what we were doin' when we were 15, we gotta beat the brakes offa’ that boy, i'm tellin' ya."

 

Zayn makes a mental note to punch his lights out or something the next time he sees him thinking it will definitely not be one of his proudest of moments.

 

Louis breaks Niall’s wistful stare off to the side directing his question to him when he asks “did ya see Liam today, don't know why you three hang out with his corny ass."

 

He answers, “yeah we did.” Mmm informative.

 

“He said hey, you know, if you were curious," Zayn adds.

 

“Fucking boy scout. Yeah you tell him I said hi and tell him to come round our hood again, tell him I got somethin’ that’ll make a man outta him.” He says mischievous while grabbing and squeezing his crotch, Harry’s footsteps sounding behind them, he comes up and sets himself behind Niall.

 

"You guys seen Jade? Should've been here already?" Maybe Z got the real reason L was sitting here on this particular day particularly wrong.

 

Harry smiles at him and asks why.

 

"Me and her,” he gestures across the road, “we been kickin' it for a bit,"

 

"You know that girl been on everybody jock from here to Tijuana though"

 

"And now she's gon' be on mine asshole," L decides to quit craning his neck trying to peep into Jade's windows and crosses the street flipping the bird at Zayn after he yells "wrap that shit up twice” at him.

 

Niall gets up a minute later saying he's heading home. "Let me walk ya," Zayn offers standing up after him. Harry makes a displeased sound over being left to loaf around alone when Niall says "that's alright Z."

 

"You sure?" Even he hates the tinge of condensation that that question needlessly bears but here he is saying it right now for lack of a better anything, at all.

 

"Yeah. Harry is the back door open?"

 

"Yup. Just go through" Harry thumbs it.

 

Niall disappears behind the house green backpack bobbing in tow and Zayn can only slink back onto the ground.

 

"Ya know L's gonna come back walking like a cowboy," Harry says after a beat.

 

"Yeah but L likes dirty pussy. Just don't tell him i told you that." Harry chuckles and leans back on the steps on his elbows, gestures with a nod to the house across the street, “you ever?”

 

“Fuck no, but I think I might have felt up her skirt at some party when I was like 12”

 

“Can’t say I I’ll be sorry if he gets something. He kinda sucks sometimes.”

 

Zayn looks back at him over his shoulder, eyebrow poised, “you know it’s my job to tell you he doesn’t.”

 

“Yeah yeah I get that but even you know he’s I don’t know, he’s real mean spirited sometimes,” Harry looks terribly ill at ease. Like it took something so strong and so real to say that finally. “He never talks to you like that.” Zayn still hears this no matter what Harry’s intentions may have been.

 

“L talks to you that way coz you let him. You wanna know something?” Harry looks up from the incredible focus he had applied to twiddling fingers, “L doesn’t know what to do with you, he doesn’t know like what to make of you. You confuse him.”

 

“I’ve lived here for 5 years what else is there to figure out?”

 

“Nah not like that. Like L does not like being confused,” Harry lets this information sink in then that stupid smile takes its shape across his lips.

 

“And what do you think of me?”

 

Zayn knows he needs to make a concerted effort to save face because the entire process and content of this conversation has left him a little confused too, “I don’t really care Harry.”

 

Harry smirks at Z and silence like something thin and sharp through something impenetrable cuts through them. Zayn eventually looks away trying to shake this familiar it off. L maybe right on the money on this one, Harry’s a giant weirdo.

 

All this weirdness is great and all, for real Z can appreciate the communion that an awkward moment brings between two people and this one is top notch stuff, but he does have other pressing matters on his mind, pressing right into his the back of his skull more like. So diving right in, with Harry no less, alrighty then not going to be the most elegant exchange he assumes.

 

"Harry, does Ni seem strange. I mean like lately."

 

"Dunno about strange but i kinda 'aven't seen him too much the last coupla weeks. Why?"

 

"I dunno. Just, he's been pretty quiet and stuff."

 

"Don't worry about it man," Harry says looking at two little kids playing with some old bottle caps perilously close to the road. But Z’s not done with it.

 

"Yeah, yeah. Harry, you're in 11th right, you remember Pascal's principle in physics?"

 

Harry looks back at him, "something about pressure. You're asking some strange questions Z."

 

Zayn smiles at the ground thinking that Harry's probably right. He's usually not but you gotta pick your fights.

 

~

 

So yeah Saturday afternoon Harry comes barreling down the hallway with a purple business card in his hefty hand, just about yelling, "guys guys you’ll never bet on your life what just happened.”

 

The entire undertaking evidently ruffles L’s feathers because he answers with, “wasn’t really planning on it.”

 

Harry proceeds unfazed, “you know my mom’s friend, ‘that guy, Nick guy’?”

 

Louis' laugh rips through the air so hard it makes the wind chimes sing with it sweet and lovely. He grips his sides through tears and says, "friend my ass. If you think the two of them are sittin' up in there talking about mortgages and bank statements, your buster ass is dumber than I thought." He can be a bastard but nobody can blame Louis for not trying.

 

Harry frowns, Niall out of his own volition tells L to quiet down. He then continues, "Anyway 'that Nick guy' told me he knows some guys who work in the movies and stuff and they might like how I look. Thinks they might be able to get me in some of them."

 

Louis stops snickering and grabs the card out of Harry's hands with “the quickness” saying “lemme see that."

 

Zayn gets his hand round Harry's forearm and brings him down. They were both raising a bit of a raucous causing some attention to get cast on them from the odd straggler but attention always seemed to work against you. He also thinks it's probably best if he tells him this now rather than wait for him to find out later in spectacularly hilarious fashion no less “Harry ‘that Nick guy’, the people he works for, they make porn flicks."

 

Harry stares back at Zayn incredulous especially when L starts up again.

 

"What the fuck they want you for, probably never fucked anything but your mattress your whole life." Which wasn't true, Harry had taken his turn on the neighborhood bikes. There were a few of them but that didn't make him an expert on the issue or anything.

 

"I could show them big titty bitches a thing or two. Smash that shit up to smithereens," L adds, just in case any member of the audience was wondering.

 

Harry's quiet through L's remarks but says slow as ever, "that don't sound too bad. Some of those guys get real famous, could make some decent change."

 

Some of them die from drugs, some of them catch the monster.

 

"Harry, those guys make gay porn," This timely piece of information comes from Niall who has taken to scuffing up his sneaker on the grass.

 

"WHAT??!" Louis shouts getting wrapped up in another bout of hysterics. Harry's eyebrows definitely perk up at that.

 

"No fucking way, no fuck... man it’s like Christmas morning up in here. This couldn't get any better if it was made up. I always knew you were one zesty motherfucker Styles," Louis says rolling around on the ground.

 

Harry's actually amused by the turn of events, "ha no man, i ain't taking it up the ass from nobody."

 

"Stop shittin' us you know you want some of that old dick. But I just gotta say ‘that Nick guy's’ a fucking pervert, dude was just sittin' 'round waitin', schemin’ for the day he was gonna tear yo pasty ass up."

 

"Damn man, can't believe all that. That's kinda fucked up" Harry does a decent job of messing up his hair.

 

"Don't worry man he'll take good care o ya," Louis steps up to pat Harry's face.

 

"Stop that."

 

"I'm gonna have to call Gage man." Says suddenly serious and apparently taking some mental survey of the reactions of all parties present, "fucking butt muncher can't be running around the street like that."

 

“Man I know ‘that Nick guy’s’ no prize but I ain’t fucking with that. I ain’t talking to those guys, they’re dangerous and that’s saying something.”

 

“You know what Z, Gage sent one of his pussy punk friends saying he wanted to talk to me. Dude had me up in the middle of the street while he was gassing ‘bout how I’m a disgrace to the race and shit. Turns out he was watching us that day we was with Pookie and the boys.” There are fewer people in Zayn’s mind he’d rather discuss than Gage. Who was dangerous and a bully. There being only one way to deal with a bully and that was to fight back but this one has sycophants and guns and self-hate, a potent mixture that.

 

“I don’t even know how you started talking to those dudes, they scare the shit outta me.”

 

“One of his sisters has been barking up my tree, which makes sense ‘cause she straight up looks like a dog, the rest just came around like flies. Trying to get me to sign up. So that what, I can shave my head and run around with the rest of those in-bred motherfuckers? Nah man. Everybody wants a piece of you in the fucking ghetto.”

 

Harry decides to end Louis’ loud train of thought when he asks, "Man, remember Andre?"

 

"Yup those kids did a real number on him. Man you couldn't even tell it was him afterward. Fucking pussy boy." L looks like he’s seriously debating on whether or not to spit on the ground to cap off his statement. Sealing the deal.

 

"I seen him once tryna trick off old Luke. Man, he came round the corner all shook up I thought the cops was 'round the bend. Turns out it was just Andre bending over."

 

Andre Andre that name turning up at the most inopportune moment yet again. And this stupid stupid memory Zayn’s tried with limited success to blot out from his thoughts. Yet he knows wherever and whatever that night probably shaped him in ways he couldn’t begin to comprehend just yet. Being cornered while taking the trash out to the dumpster in the alley way next to the apartment and looking on like a wild man. Andre said he seemed a little limp wristed 'far as he could tell. He smiled at him with a calculating little twitch and left a 15 year old Zayn stiff as a board plastered to the wall.

 

"Harry I find out you fucks with the rest of those pillow biters don't come back here, I mean it Harry, don't." And when L preaches, you fucking listen.

 

Harry looks hurt in the only way he knows how to feel hurt; deeply personally, " naw man you know me, I don't get down like that."

 

This level of camaraderie between Louis and Harry should be momentous but it’s not so much that it is happening than why it is happening that makes Zayn lose his voice. He looks over at Niall who is as quiet as can be taking in the discussion with mild interest. And there's that itch again, right between his motherfucking shoulder blades mocking him. ‘You can’t get right, motherfucker.'


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh damn, that’s all kindsa wrong”

 

“Why don't you go and show him how it's done then”

 

“Shove over you're on my thigh”

 

“Maybe I should. What's the point of seeing pros do it if pros can't get it done”

 

“Exactly who’s the pro here?”

 

“I told you this girl's a grade A ho”

 

“Yeah you're one to talk”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

Ok alright this can officially be considered as one of those things that should never have been attempted. When L strolled up the street with a glint in his eye with tall tales of 'you wanna see Jade fuck Wheelchair Jerry' it seemed kinda interesting, you know in that horrifying ‘only Louis’ kinda way, not so much now. Because there are so many, literally fully itemized lists and lists of other things Zayn would rather be doing than squatting in the dark watching this mess like some creep.

 

Oh and sweet, old Jade letting Louis work through some deep seated shit by fucking a paraplegic in front of him, who was not only wheelchair bound but also had questionable hygiene. Whatever, this was probably the definition of travesty.

 

“I'm gonna hoof it,” Zayn whispers perching off his place under Jade's window and under L's pits.

 

“What? No, you're gonna miss the end”

 

He offers a cursory glance to the window “L I don't think it ever really started.”

 

“Suit yourself man,” he turns around, “Ni, H you guys wanna see this, right?” They both shake their heads wordlessly in frantic harmony. Niall steps out his position and Harry follows after. 

 

Louis huffs and turns back to the window, “fine I’ll have this awesome story to tell by myself.” 

 

The three of them start on their way to Harry's when L says, “what, you're really leaving? Come on guys it's weird if I’m watching by myself.”

 

“It was already weird to begin with,” Harry twists to reply. 

 

There's some stirring heard and a definite 'motherfuckers' muttered then Louis shows up beside them, apparently annoyed because he's silent. And Zayn's not having it. He puts his arm round L's shoulders and says low so that they're the only two hearing, “would've made a cool story though.”

 

Louis tries to hide his appeasement by shoving him away but yeah you know. 

 

-

 

Harry's mother is out so they pretty much have the place to themselves for the night. He brings out the popcorn and the crackers and they settle.

 

Louis wrangles with Harry over the remote and what not to watch while Niall sifts through the popcorn for the really buttery bits that he seems to like so much leaving Zayn with the joyous task of reviewing and cataloguing the music records in the living room. Steely Dan? Harry’s taste is getting er…Harry has strange taste in music.

 

What’s funny is L sounds almost troubled when he says, “How do you not watch TLC what is wrong with you?” 

 

“What, that channel’s full of trash”

 

Louis raises his eyebrow, “and what do you think you are?”

 

Harry sighs falling backwards and whatever fight he had in him leaves with it. 

 

“Now mama's got to watch her Extreme Couponing, my ninja this is numero uno.” Louis is a conundrum, the way he talks, he could be like a politician or a preacher or one those infomercial guys but what comes out of his mouth...sigh sigh sigh.

 

Niall kicks up his feet and settles snug into the couch with this perfectly placid look on his face like he could be in Harry's living room or in the middle of a prostrate exam, wouldn't matter he's still down for whatever. Zayn's kind of jealous, kind of mad too.

 

Although Harry was initially against L's control over the TV, 20 minutes in and he seems thoroughly engrossed in whatever the fuck Honey Boo Boo is. 

 

Zayn figures he could get his smoke in now that everybody is thoroughly sedated on TV. He taps Niall on the thigh and motions towards the door. Niall looks at him and nods hand still in Harry's bowl, now nearly empty.

 

Stepping outside, it's still unseasonably warm; he could even do without the extra layer he made a last minute decision to put on. Once he gets the ember steady he crosses the yard heading toward the inflatable pool and still greased up Slip 'n Slide. He pokes around the stagnant water flinging his ash occasionally on the surface even if it'll probably look ugly in the morning. 

 

He can hear Louis and Harry squawking in the living room about something or other, probably Honey Boo Boo related and it looks like Louis is winning, which seems only fair seeing as Louis is a mathematical constant but he can't pick out Niall's contribution to the discussion.

 

He heads farther into the nearly desiccated grass and can kind of trace part of Pegasus with his index finger. 'Same great big sky' he mutters to himself and it tastes bitter rolling off his tongue. Can't help but think about the number of times he has done this. Planned out an entire ‘Evening At Harry's’ in his head, from a slightly hung-over Louis to waking up with Harry's knee in his side. Having to clear the way for Harry because his mom isn't there. And it's alright, he doesn't mind it. He's not doing it alone. But it's those other instances where he feels like he has to steal away that get him like this. Weird and quiet.

 

It's not like they don't know what he's doing. It's not some big secret that he smokes. But the ritual he cultivated in it feels secret. Anyway. Harry's groans which had started out as a whine are now grating. L's probably sitting on him, Niall's probably throwing popcorn in his hair or probably not. Both ways it's time to go back in.

 

\- 

 

It's morning and Niall's asleep where Zayn last saw him, right next to Harry in his comforter cocoon. Harry's going through his morning motions, strenuously waking up and trying not to trip over he and Louis on the floor. Zayn looks over at L and he is out like a light, then back at Niall and he doesn't know what to make of it.

 

~ 

 

If he wasn't such a push over, Zayn figures, Liam would be a pretty imposing guy. Like now he's let Harry run amok with his car tricks in the clearing behind the track field at school. One thing, Harry can't drive. He kind of sort of failed the test and didn't bother to rectify his mistakes so here he is tearing the tires of off Liam's beat up Chevy c10. He's most likely doing it all because Harry asked nicely.

 

Even though his arms are swelling right out of his shirt with the way they're crossed over his chest, the look on his face seems to convey concern over Harry rather than concern over his truck. It might sound careless in Zayn's head but Harry can be a careless fuck at times.

 

“You think he knows what he's doing?” Liam doesn't lift his gaze away from the dust Harry's raising in his wake.

 

Zayn, cuts him a look “not a chance.”

 

Liam still has 'worried face' on his eyebrows are doing the droopy thing, Zayn feels he should interject “L's been asking 'bout you.”

 

This does get his attention, he looks at Zayn apparently waiting for him to go on, “was wondering when you were comin' round our way again.”

 

Liam stills but smiles. He says after a beat of silence, “Louis did not say that.”

 

“Ok those might not have been his exact words but he did wanna see you again.” Even if it was just for the spectacle of seeing the two of them interact again, this seemed like a push in the right direction, it had been a while.

 

The look that flits across Liam's face would have you think he was brokering peace in the Middle East but he says, “cool, whatever” in the end with about as much nonchalance as a parade.

 

But Zayn's not feeling particularly charitable today so he adds, “cool, what?”

 

He looks over at Harry, who by the way is doing a bang up job at jamming the gears on this thing, “cool, I’ll come over.”

 

Which by any means is a satisfactory enough answer. Zayn nods and goes back to staring at the newer thicker layer of scruff on Liam's jaw. Wondering when it got there and what a difference 4 months makes. 4 months ago he would've never let himself look. 

 

Harry comes careening right in front of them and stops a few metres away. He pokes his head out of the window and you can almost see the relief washing over Liam as he finally lets his shoulders drop. Harry sticks his thumb up looking nothing but extremely pleased with himself. They can't help but smile at the silliness of the situation.

 

“Hey,” Liam nudges his shoulder as they make their way to the dusty car, “where was Ni today?”

 

It's almost dusk, and the dust might've been a bitch but it looked pretty wafting in the evening sun. He should be there by now. “He said he had to rush home or something.”

 

“Oh, alright,” he replies while simultaneously yanking Harry by the arm from the driver's seat. 

 

-

 

Another week rolls by and the nights spent at Harry's house also increase in number, for Zayn anyway. He could get a handle on what exactly he was running away from he really could but that would be no fun. Harry could use the company though. He's alone again in too wide of a space and it tends to do the opposite of what it should.

 

His mother is a thing of beauty that one, and so it seems that she must allow herself to revel in all the things that such beauty affords. Those sleek shiny cars that used to pull up like roaches in the dark, nose candy tucked right next to the bottle of JD, 'that Nick guy' and whatever mojo he has working there plus one willfully unaware Harry.

 

His fits have gotten to a large extent less frequent, less severe. He takes his meds and they all know how to handle it now but Zayn and he's sure the rest of them can't forget the first time it happened in front of them. It even had Louis shutting up for a second before he began freaking out.

 

L was steady pulling bunny hops and other bicycle crap making the rest of them generally look bad when Harry fell from where he was standing next to Zayn. And all of time froze as they witnessed their first epileptic fit. His spams seemed to go on and on. Harry was pretty skinny back then, he's not even brawny or anything of the sort now but Zayn can recall thinking he'd crack his spine with how fierce it was. He even remembers Niall a little misty eyed by the time they had managed to lug Harry back home. It feels like it was eons ago.

 

Zayn gets attacked by a wayward elbow when Harry tries to jump him from behind the couch. He's been on an all out assault lately with the physical affection bit and Zayn would be fine with it if it didn't result in so much injury. 

 

“Hey man,” he says once he has arranged his limbs accordingly.

 

“Hey,” Zayn says resuming his viewing off um, Cake Boss, is it? Damn Louis and his addictive trash TV. 

 

Harry pokes him in the nose and retracts his hand as soon as Zayn gives him his out-of-commission side-eye.

 

“What's been going on with you?” He asks in spite of it. And here Zayn thought he was being slick with it.

 

“Nothing's been going on with me.”

 

Harry narrows his eyes at him and huffs out a breath, “you've been here all week, my cooking ain't that great. And man you know you're super quiet all 'a sudden.”

 

He may be shit outta luck but fuck Harry. Like all those hugs were for nothing. Zayn feels even more pissed off because his carefully honed Man of Mystery act is more transparent than he thought. What makes absolutely no sense is how Harry could pick up on his 'too cool for school' vibes and how he can't see whatever colossal shit is going on with Niall.

 

“I just, wanted a break from home.” Clearly because the jig is up.

 

“What's going on at home?” he's propped up his chin on his palm like this is some riveting shit being expressed here.

 

“Nothing much. I just wanted some space. I sleep on the couch ya know.” He really hopes this is as disaffected as he's aiming for. He never really thought he'd see the day that he'd be put on the spot by Harry ‘muthaphucking’ Styles.

 

Well Harry smiles, for some reason, and clasps Zayn on the shoulder. His hand feels so big. “You're lying.”

 

“I'm not lying. The apartment is pretty crowded. Just needed to get away,” it sounds weak but he wants Harry to take it and shut up. 

 

But of course he being he won't let it go thaaaat easily, “c'mon man you know you can tell me whatever, we're like family. My mom even said she's waiting for the day you turn 18. Dunno what for.”

 

He smiles kind of belatedly at the remark. It is only Harry after all, despite everything. Which might precisely be the problem. “I know. Nothing's up.”

 

It looks like Harry really puts up a fight in allowing his smile to falter, he lets go of the shoulder in his grasp, says “fine” and leans back into the sofa.

 

Zayn wishes he could give him something better than 'I live in a stuffy house' to go on but it feels like if he even tried to take apart everything it'd be in volumes. He's not even sure where to begin himself.

 

So Cake Boss it is.

 

A little later after TV starts getting lethargic Zayn mentions in passing "You talked to L"

 

“Naw, why?” Harry replies distracted.

 

“Kinda wasn't asking. You spoke with 'im.”

 

He smiles to himself waiting for the most poetic moment when he could say, “nah, I stood up for myself.” They both glow with goofy pride which they both try to hide.

 

Doesn't mean later when they're both tuckered out in Harry's bed he doesn't try to smother him with his octopus grip. 

 

~

 

“I'm busy bruh, go away”

 

“Busy doin' what? Tagging buildings and huffing glue? Will you come on”

 

“Yeesh man what's got yo drawers in a bunch?”

 

“Liam's here”

 

Louis promptly drops the spray paint can in his hand, “you shoulda said something.”

 

Angels probably sang the moment they met each other again. Louis pats his back, his smile too big for his face. At least he's letting it show this time. Liam's in fact showing an astonishing amount of composure. Some strange stuff. Zayn can bet that a fair amount of practice went into perfecting the dumb look on his face. It's so stupid.

 

Louis actually looks like he might even want to hug him. This moment should be immortalized in a museum some place. If only he had a camera right now.

 

Zayn would never have guessed that a chance encounter between two of his friends would have resulted into something the likes of this. They really have nothing in common; Liam's a nice guy, Louis is tolerable at best but the kind of cosmic connection these two have formed should reverberate into the ages or some similar shit. 

 

It's so strange seeing them in the same place. Liam's sat up on the arm of Harry's couch, Louis is buzzing in front of him, looking 5 years old, something Zayn doesn't even remember him being, but here he is. Tomorrow, once he's gone, L's gonna call him a lame idiot and act like today wasn't anything but a thing.

 

Stupid bastard.

 

Niall shows up, bumps everyone's fist in the room and plops himself next to Zayn on the floor. Some other strange thing, because if you asked Zayn he'd tell you in his opinion this bright-eyed boy was avoiding him. But if Zayn has made peace with anything that is happening around him it's that he doesn't know anything about anything.

 

They mess around with the PS, clear out Harry's mom's fridge and trade a bunch of exaggerated stories about the girls they've boned. Harry even spills beans on the little fact that he may have fucked Jade even before she and Louis started fooling around.

 

Louis is not happy. He musters through realizing he had received a giant helping of Harry's sloppy seconds with one of those maniacal grins that promise a world of hurt later. All that's missing is the sinister finger triangle of calculation that all evil masterminds should have in their possession in order to be taken with any seriousness as an evil mastermind.

 

Niall laughs and offers quips when necessary but doesn't say much in way of sharing.

 

It rounds about that time when Zayn takes his obligatory smoke break. This evening's edition is apparently brought to you by sexual tension in association with Southern Comfort. Having Niall's thigh pressed up against his own within the entire span of the afternoon must've really done a number on him because he's a little hard and a lot confused. Deep down he feels the weight lift off him from that simple admission to himself.

 

He scans the entire deck and backyard and thinks that inflatable swimming is still looking really good. They used it the day before so the water's gonna get changed, by him, soon enough. Harry is giddy right now, L's is still enamoured, who knows what the fuck Niall is but he knows he won't be coming out there. Liam's the only one still standing; he just hopes L won't let him out of his sights.

 

This is not in the least bit new. He's beat off quite a few and it never failed to leave him feeling rather empty. With the arrangements at home being what they are it had become harder but it feels like it had been a long time coming and this is one for the books. 

 

He squeezes one out and prays that the whimper of 'Niall' that came out with it was just that. He cleans up and strolls back into the living feeling like a new man in old skin.

 

Time passes and by the time they're walking Liam to the bus stop Zayn forgets the prior craziness. Forgets emptying the water on the grass, wiping his jizz off with his sock, forgets to remember the question Liam posed without a word on his way back in.

 

On the road back to Harry’s Niall paces beside him with the biggest smile this side of the Atlantic bumping into his shoulder. Zayn smiles back with much less wattage and after some time they find themselves falling behind the Harry and Louis.

 

“So how've you been?”

 

Zayn would laugh at his question if it wasn't so fuzzy in his head. “Been ok”

 

He averts his gaze to his faded Converse; Zayn can see it coming even before the words fully form on Niall's lips, “Harry said you've been sorta down.”

 

He can't, does not know how to deal so he just won't “So he sent you” 

 

Niall puts his hands up, “hey, ease up, he didn't send me. Just thought you wanted to talk.” He knows he's gained a little attitude problem in the short amount of time he decided to clam up on everybody. It ain't his fault he hates everyone and everything because he hates himself.

 

“Don't wanna.”

 

He pulls his hood over his hair which Zayn had of course noticed had started going down the back of his neck, sticking to the nape whenever he got a little sweaty, and says, “what you mad at me for, was only trynna help.”

 

It's just enough to push him over the edge. He had tried, Lord knows he had tried to avoid this moment with everthing he had but like Marvin said there's only three things that for sure; taxes, death and trouble. As sure as his road to emphysema is, Zayn’s just as surely about to dive head first in a whole lotta trouble.

 

He gets his hand round Niall's elbow and pulls him back. The look on Niall's face is priceless.

 

“You wanna know why I’m so mad? Tell me what the fuck you're hiding first,” this has to be the most childish thing to have ever come out of his mouth, which doesn't even begin to explain why he suddenly feels like he could complete the Iron Man competition with this burst of new energy.

 

Niall stares back at him in complete shock. He's never done anything like this before. And he feels so strangely vindicated he's wonders what took him so long to finally get here.

 

The red sleeve in his hand remains, he doesn't try to pry his way out of his grip. “The fuck are you talking about?”

 

He can't help it, this shit could not have been set up more perfectly than if he had done it himself. He laughs. It's long and strong. Harry and Louis have proceeded beyond their line of sight and it's dark enough that they could dash in between the cracks if somebody spotted them.

 

He laughs so hard he has to put his arms around himself to control it. Niall continues staring because it seems like he has no other choice except to stare.

 

Between catching his breath and trying to calm himself down, he says “Ni you are not gonna pull that shit with me. Ok. L and Harry might not see it or maybe they just don't care. Hell if I know, but you've been acting shady as shit for who knows how long and I’m tired of it.” It whooshes out of him like a gust of wind.

 

Every part of Niall's face grows hard and it's all wrong, everything's wrong. He wants to smooth out his brow despite the current situation. “Leave me alone Zayn.” He gripes while starting down the lane. These little short cuts got dark at night. It wasn't late but the risk borne by walking down shadowy alleys alone was real.

 

“No man,” Zayn stands his ground. Every trace of the previous outburst long gone. It only now becomes apparent what he’s really demanding by doing this. Niall stops in his tracks, he doesn't say a word just turns back to look at Zayn.

 

“Listen, that day you stayed at my place you left even without telling me. Moms came out when she woke up, said she heard voices. I had to lie to her I left the stereo on. You've been avoiding me, avoiding us, you don't even let us come over anymore. You bail the first chance you get,” He continues because he feels like he might not get another chance, “now here's what I don't get, you snuck out on me but you stay the whole night at Harry's like no biggie. What's the deal?” He thinks that one probably hurts the most.

 

Niall stands rooted to the spot, he's still angry though, still silent.

 

“Are you gonna answer me”

 

“No”

 

Zayn has to do a mental double take on that one because he wasn't expecting smooth sailing as far having this conversation was concerned but he also wasn't expecting defiance.

 

“You're not the only one allowed to be a lil' bitch about shit. It ain't any a’ your concern anyway so lay off me.” Niall's anger has bubbled a bit but if there's even the least chance that he can get away with this he'll keep pushing.

 

“Hey when my boy starts going MIA no rhyme, no reason you better believe it's my concern,” he wishes he could keep his inner Louis in its place but it tends to come out at the most inappropriate times, such as this one.

 

There's a slight breeze but it's enough because some garbage comes loose where it was sloppily piled on top of a trash can. Plastic paper bags and plates fall out and Niall's resolve strengthens, “you’re such a hypocrite Zayn, talking to me about that shit. Get away from me.”

 

They say, wise old sages and people who are probably very long gone by now, they, say making decisions when you are mad is a bad decision in itself. They use classier wording but the gist is the same. So as Zayn cuts short all his thought processes and all he hears is ‘get back at him, get back at him’ ringing in his ears, he recognizes just how deep his careless streak goes and with that he lets go. 

 

“My mom is so tired of holding down 6 people. My sis is a having a kid with some shithead knuckle dragger, she don't even have a steady job, who's gonna feed it. Wah is growing up way way too fast, what if she end up like Dee. I think L might get run up on the street one of these days. Harry raised his fucking self and he don't even see it. And Pops... Man I am so tired of being useless and broke as fuck. I can't even help my own damn family,” over and above everything Zayn figures, this feels weirdly good, like it needed to be done “but you know what, all that shit's cool 'cause if I think about it, I mean really think about it, my only problem here is you.”

 

From the looks of it all the information that Zayn just spewed went right over his head. When he finally comes to he says, “I’m sorry about all that other stuff Zayn but I don't see how I’m one of your problems.”

 

Zayn takes a long hard look at him saying nothing. Niall's eyes dart around and it seems like he has something right at the tip of his tongue but nothing comes out.

 

“Yeah you do.”

 

That gets his attention enough that he allows himself to seem uncomfortable. Niall looks up and looks away, “I don't what you're talking about.”

 

After another weighty pause “‘Course not.”

 

~

 

Whatever it is Zayn thought was happening before with Niall it is nothing compared to what is happening now. He has all the time in the world to regret his life decisions because Niall is nowhere in sight. Except for awkwardly passing by each other at school he hasn't really seen him or heard from him all week. L takes it with his usual poise; it seems serious enough that Harry doesn't even mention anything.

 

There's another thing though, Liam. He's being weird. Which is playing it mildly. He, thankfully isn't avoiding him, he's actually doing the opposite, he's fucking hovering. During breaks and such, it's annoying, and that's playing it mildly.

 

“Whatever Jedi mind-control shit you think you're doing, it ain't working,” Zayn hates those required reading lists although time finds him skimming through one the books on his list. 

 

With some surprisingly super quick agility Liam launches himself from the seat in front of Zayn to the seat next to him. He doesn't spare a second to collect himself or his thoughts before ripping right into it with, “i gotta tell you something and I need you to promise you won't freak out.”

 

“Ya know, talking's illegal in the library”

 

“Z c'mon I’m being serious here”

 

“So am I”

 

Liam's eyebrows have started to droop again and it feels like the fun won't last as long if he's trying to be serious with his big reveal. “What?”

 

“First promise you won't freak out,” he's even got one of his hands covering Zayn's so he guesses he should just muscle through it and Liam's sincere face is a force to be reckoned with anyway so it must swiftly be done away with .

 

“I won't freak out”

 

Liam exhales and looks like he's trying to be meticulous with his word choice, he eventually says, “I don't know how else to put it, even I didn't think it really happened but last Sunday, Louis and Harry were pretty out of it and we thought it'd be a good idea to get them the chocolate milk, you know to help ‘em sober up. Ni looked for it but couldn't find any, so uh,” Zayn out the mysterious blue remembers this dumb show on Nick that he used to watch with this guy who could freeze time and jump out of the screen. He'd then start explaining stuff out to the audience like you couldn't already see it with your own eyes. Zayn remembers to breathe and more than anything he wishes he was the guy on that show right now, “you were in the back and I came out to ask you if you knew where it was but I.”

 

That's where he ends it, it's enough that. There isn't much else to say. Neither of them could look at each other's faces if they even tried, Zayn prays Liam's doesn't spell the same thing as his, shame. All manner of shit ‘exposed’, ‘L’...’Pop’ even ‘Andre’ manages to get himself in the melee, swamps his brain and he has to nip this in the bud, there's only time to act.

 

“Listen you didn't need to see that but i'mma owe you a big one if you can keep this between us,” Zayn hurries the words like an illicit drop, pressing bills into the palm of a police officer to let him off easy.

 

Liam mumbles, “no sweat” looking down at the table and Zayn works through his trembling hands, collects his belongings and dashes out of the library. He keeps walking out of the school building, past the gate, doesn't notice the calls back, the copy of Ulysses he didn't check out of the library still in his hand or even that he somehow ended up in front of the door he hadn't seen in nearly a month.

 

He enters, drops everything he has on him by the couch and collapses on his little sister's bed, tears overcoming him.

 

-

 

Zayn's cold. He doesn't remember feeling so cold when he fell asleep but he's definitely cold right now. It's also pitch dark outside, and other anomalies. There’s a dull drum from the rain outside.

 

If this isn't a hangover he doesn't know what is. His eyes are puffy, itchy and achy, there's hunger underneath the mound in his stomach. He's not even sure he can get up considering the overall heaviness in his chest. His limbs feel like sacks of shit weighing him down. He feels like a sack of shit.

 

He struggles past the soreness around his knees, holding onto the bunk bed's step ladder he hauls himself up onto his feet and grips the top bunk to steady himself.

 

His sisters are curled under a bright purple comforter, granted they are facing away from each other and there seems to be a towel dividing the bed in half, it's cute. He can almost imagine the discussion that ensued once they found out they had to share a bed for the night, must've comprised talk of ‘gross’, ‘kooties’ and ‘farts in her sleep’. Zayn misses home deeply.

 

Stumbling through the darkness of the hallway, he feels his way through the entire length of it and hopes to reach the kitchen in relative silence so that he can paw through the left overs. 

 

Crossing halfway into the living room, he has to place a hand on his chest to ward off his oncoming heart attack when he notices a figure sitting at the window.

 

“Mom,” it had been lost somewhere in his mind that she had her own creature comforts. Her own shit to deal with. His voice comes out in a low scratch, “you scared me.”

 

She moves the ashtray to the floor and beckons him towards the window, “sorry. Now park it.”

 

He settles himself next to her, he remembers fleetingly the last time he did this too. She passes the half finished cigarette over to him and he takes it like he took mother's milk. 

 

“How you been?” She asks him knowing full well the answer.

 

He shakes his head and blows out of the window, “not the best, could be better.” Zayn doesn't know how this talk is going to turn out but he's definitely scared thinking about it too much.

 

“Why,”

 

“Everything,” she doesn't reply or dig or advice, she shares the silence and the smoke. Zayn studies her profile as the rain washes the street, probably what his sisters are gonna look like when they're older and he wishes he was much more than the pathetic patch work he was turning out as.

 

This is singularly the strongest person to have lived in his eyes, it even stumps him how they are actually related, but whatever truth lies in the words 'harsh reality' he thinks this is the first time in his life that he's facing it.

 

It really is quite cold. He shivers a bit and his mother's attention is back on him, although Zayn knows it never really left him. She smiles, “you have a birthmark next to your left nut,” Zayn coughs the smoke right out of his lungs, “I’m telling you this because you’re mine. And I love you. Just be careful.”

 

He tries to drink in everything she said. It's maybe just general ‘mom stuff’ but he does feel a bit lifted. “I know, I will.” He means this. With all his heart he means this. He meant it when he said he'd finish school no matter what, when he told Saf he'd buy another bike after her little pink and black Huffy got stolen (he and Louis stole it back) and when he told Harry there wasn't anything wrong with him. 

 

Maybe that's what he needs to do, mean what he says.

 

She gets a lock on him and doesn't let go. “They came for him a couple of weeks ago,” she says as you would say the weather predictions, both of these reactions and responses in sync, Zayn lights up another cigarette.

 

-

 

She lets him stay the week at home lazing around, picking fights with his sisters and stewing safely back in his sofa/bed. She doesn't ask too many questions why or how or even what but she tells him a week and a week is all he's gonna get.

 

After a few days of gaining water weight and letting his Cheeto beard acquire some disgusting permanence Zayn decides it might be time to step outside and maybe step into the shower first.

 

He plays with the steam in the mirror just for something to do thinking he's nearly an adult and he still owns a Samurai Jack towel. It looks pretty cool if you asked him, but we all know how that goes. He's kept the whole Liam situation out of his mind as much as he possibly could but fear still sits in the corner most nights waiting for Zayn to drop by, say hi and it doesn't leave till morning.

 

He cleans up and straightens his sleep/smoke/work (in that order) station. After thinking about the potential pros and cons of his next moves he makes up his mind to head to Harry's house. Zayn's not too sure whether or not it’s the best plan of action but he goes anyway.

 

From the outside, Harry's house never looked as big as it does presently. Zayn stops at the chicken wire fence looking at the walk way to the porch as if it's the Green Mile, he guesses it kinda is. Well he walks up to the door, clenches and unclenches his fists a few times, wonders why he's doing this, thinks he really could live without friends you know and gives Harry's door a couple of tentative knocks.

 

There silence as Zayn psyches himself out. He knocks again, more silence and just as he's about to throw in the towel Harry's huge smiling mug appears at the door saying "sorry...” His face drops as soon as he takes in that it’s Zayn.

 

He tries to wear his smile but for all the practice he's got down he knows his artificial smile looks stupid. Harry doesn't humor him though, he leans on the door and zeros in on him.

 

“Who dat?” Only then does Zayn notice Louis is on Harry's living room floor. And when did these two start hanging out without any mediation?

 

Harry turns his head slightly talking out of the corner of his mouth he says to Louis, “it's Z.”

 

L then yells from where he is, “tell that bastard to get in here. No, no scratch that, ask that bastard where the fuck he’s been hanging then tell him to get the fuck in here.” But by the look in Harry’s eyes Zayn can tell he has other plans.

 

He shuffles forward, locks the door behind him and it looks like he’s doing math in his head if Zayn had to guess from just his expression. 

 

“Like he said, where the fuck have you been?” this moment seems as appropriate as any to break into a light sweat. He’s still not clear on how much Harry knows plus he’s being kind of goofily cloak and dagger about it, it’s unusual to say the least.

 

If anything, Zayn knows his answers have to be sufficient but not so much so he over-compensates and risks exposing himself. If there is anything to expose…?

 

“Been at the crib”

 

He holds that head-math look before replying, “you kinda disappeared on us. Wasn’t sure what had happened to ya.”

 

Smiling a little Zayn adds, “yeah, kinda did, didn’t I? I’m here now.” Harry even smiles too but it seems off, in any case his next words fill in the blanks.

 

“Liam um, told me what happened.”

 

Play it cool, play it easy, there aren’t too many other options. Now if he could just get past the beginnings of the thunderous heartbeat he’d be golden. Harry might not be the most intuitive person but that does not mean much, considering they’ve known each other for as long as they have. He could put his fucking antennas out there if he wanted to. His fucking face throws you off though.

 

“And what was that,” play it cool, play it easy.

 

He releases a deep breath and taps on the floor boards a few times, “he got you, you know…”

 

It’s silent after that. Zayn doesn’t know what to do next, he doesn’t even know if he’ll make it home in one piece after the day’s done. His mother’s words echo for a moment. Harry’s doing an excellent job averting his line of sight. If he knows, he knows. He had prepared himself for that outcome but not for what comes after. Then it hits him, Louis. Liam told. Liam told. Niall. 

 

Even if it’s just some front, confidence. “L know?”

 

“God, no. I haven’t told anyone. But Z…” His hands go back to his hair as per usual, “Z, imma keep it a hundred, I don’t, what if, if-”

 

“Hey it’s cool Harry. K? You don’t have to anything you don’t want to,” with that Zayn thinks it might be best if he goes his way. He can check out how many eyebrows raise and hot rocks get pelted at him as he passes on his way home, might give an idea on the severity of the situation. He wishes he had more time. If he hadn’t been stupid about this, just a few more months and be out of here. For good.

 

He offers one last glance at Harry, who seems to be stuck between motion and keeping still, it’s a funny sight if he had it in him to laugh, and starts his way down his lawn. The grass has already started turning color, it’s quite a pretty lawn when the weather maintains. Zayn hears hurried footsteps heavily approaching behind him and all he knows is he suddenly can’t move. 

 

Harry’s grip around his shoulders keeps him in his tracks, he sputters by his ear, “come back to the house.”

 

_

 

Zayn doesn’t move back into the house with Harry. He’s trying to bring his pieces together. He does come over every day after school though and it’s enough for the both of them. Working his way round Liam was difficult. Even though Harry had assured him Liam had kept his mouth shut, Zayn secretly tended to his broken trust, ‘he told you’ and warming up to him was a real battle. But more than anything the fact that he still showed interest in interacting with him, knowing what he knows, seeing what he saw, settled inside Zayn.

 

So they nod to each other in class, Harry feels achieved and Niall niggles the back of his mind. How the two of them have consequently laid him bare and there’s nothing left. How Harry, awkward and gangly, has somehow managed to be such an intrinsic part of his life that he couldn’t even picture it without him.

 

If there circumstances were different he thinks this would be like a new beginning, coming out. He’s thankful, but mostly instead of feeling happy, his thoughts are fixed on ‘please don’t think I’m gross’ and the like. He doesn’t say anything of course, Harry doesn’t even bring it up but that could go either way. Doesn’t know how to take that, doesn’t know if he should be grateful or annoyed. 

 

“Why him though?” Harry lets out, losing in chess multiple times over one slow evening. 

 

Setting up the board again Zayn asks, “why who though?”

 

“Niall”

 

He startles and a couple of rooks tumble to the floor. They’ve only skirted around the topic, taking arduous measures in avoiding naming any names. He’s still kind of coming to terms with things himself, surprising doesn’t even cover it. Meaning what he says, as his personal mantra, he mutters, “I don’t know.”

 

“But you gotta have a clue. It wasn’t L, wasn’t me” 

 

Zayn smiles shaking out the mental picture Harry just provided for a second, “I don’t know, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

 

“You’ve known L longer. Hell, you’ve even known me since we were kids,” well he doesn’t seem to want to back down, Zayn however, doesn’t feel like his crush or whatever should even be a topic of discussion so he shuts it down.

 

“I don’t know. Will you play?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes, “you aren’t very romantic, are ya?”

 

Whatever

 

_

 

The last thing he heard before he snuck out was Prototype by 3 Stacks and it’s still playing in his head. Maybe it was a bit of a foolish choice to have made but it’s given him enough energy to actually take a stab at what he’s about to. 

 

He sees the marine green roof, hears the dogs barking and makes a silent prayer.

 

Going round the house, he spots his window and taps at it until he notices some movement in the boards he loosened behind the glass. Niall’s messy blonde hair makes an appearance, his eyes try to focus and it’s apparent that it’s alarm which registers when he figures out who’s outside his window.

 

He motions toward the front of the house. Zayn stumbles through the dark looking for his footing and when he finally does reach the door, Niall’s already there with his arms crossed.

 

“Uh, hi,”

 

“You know what time what time it is?” all niceties dropped, Niall actually looks a little angry.

 

“It was like 1 when I left the home”

 

“Are you crazy, you coulda woken up my Ma”

 

Zayn makes his own snap decision at this moment. “OK it was probably a bad choice to come here at this time but I kinda had to sneak out so I need you to you listen for a bit,” Niall doesn’t say anything so he assumes it’s good to go. “I’ve been a real asshole to you, I know, alright, but you gotta hear where I’m coming from. I don’t even know what I thought would happen here but, um, you were acting pretty weird too and yeah. But I’m not here for that.”

 

He seeks out Niall’s hand which had dropped to his side. It feels stiff plus Niall’s not even moving but he set his mind on this, whatever happens, happens. He’s risking his whole friendship for this messiness.

 

“Niall I, uh, I guess-“words, words man, get in the fucking way always.

 

“Zayn don’t,” his plan is foiled that’s for sure, he feels like he could even shout at him ’you said you’d shut up till I’m done’. Niall tries to get his hand back but he doesn’t let him. 

 

“You gotta think about the shit you say Zayn, you can’t take it back once it’s done,” he looks a bit panicked and Zayn for a second thinks about backing down but he set this path see, he has to follow through.

 

"Ni this was not some easy thing to do, I been thinking ‘bout this since I was 12 years old. What else is there to think about? It’s not gonna change a damn thing”

 

“But it’s not just you if you do this. It’s like you don’t even know where we live?” if he didn’t know any better he’d say Niall was on the verge of tears. You didn’t cry, here, you just got mad.

 

He wants to feel free, finally from all this bullshit, even if he they never talk again, even if they never see each other again. Just this once. “I know that Ni, I’m not asking you to be whatever it is you think I’m gonna ask. I just wanna say how I feel, no pressure, hope you get that.”

 

“What the fuck do you want me to say after, Zayn?”

 

He shakes his head, “nothing.” 

 

Niall fidgets like he would rather be anywhere, just anywhere, else but there. “Man,” he lets out the tension in his shoulders, “I’ve been sprung over you since we were kids. I wish I could explain it better than that but I got nothing. Didn’t think this part through too well. But there you have it.” He lets Niall’s hand go.

 

Harry doesn’t know shit, sneaking out in the middle of the night with the temperatures being what they suddenly are, not to mention risking life and limb is downright romantic if you asked him.

 

Later the only thing he thinks he’ll be able to recall is the sight of Niall glued to the front porch as he walked home.

 

-

 

His mother has adjusted to the absence in the family with the same resolve she does with everything else. His sisters aren’t so lucky though. Zayn goes his out of his way to escape those thoughts. He does his part in steering clear of Dee’s way. She’s ripe for the plucking and Petey coming home late isn’t exactly helping the situation. He knows he’s going to have to sit down with him soon enough before his mother kicks him out.

 

He tickles his younger sisters to sleep, it usually doesn’t go down to well with Wah but he’s not going to stop doing it. She’d rather mope and run away and hide in corners but if he has any say in the matter Zayn’s not going to let the very tendencies his sees in himself take her over.

 

He’s trying to help Saf with homework some nights later, he doesn’t remember elementary level math being this taxing, when there’s a knock at the door. His mother gets it and calls him over. She moves out of the way to reveal Niall standing on the opposite side of the door. He smiles at him when Zayn comes into view he realizes how long it's been since the last time this happened. Shooting him a look she heads back into the kitchen.

 

“Hi”

 

“Hi”

 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be in and stuff,” he says while he leans on the doorpost.

 

Zayn shrugs the buzz in his stomach off, “‘m always here.”

 

“Yeah yeah but you know,” he says.

 

Zayn's hands are securely inside his pockets. He wishes they weren't though. “Yeah.” They simmer in the abrupt silence for a bit before Niall asks, "that Lupe I hear?"

 

“Yup got some new shit, of course my sisters hate it already”

 

He chuckles lightly and Zayn asks him if he'd like to come in.

 

At dinner Dee can't stop petting his hair, mentioning how she hasn't seen him in forever. His sisters at least laugh at his jokes and his mother asks him how he's been doing. He answers in his usual vague general air but for once Zayn forgets about the empty space at the head of the table. The space right next to his. And doesn’t focus too much on what Niall being here means.

 

-

 

There really is no rest for the weary soul. Zayn laughs in his head at the phrase staring at the wall in the dark of the room. 

 

Things could be worse. Things could be much worse than they are. He could be halfway across the country with nothing but a backpack right now, he could end up like André, he could've lost most of his friends, yup, things could be worse. So why the fuck is the only thought in his mind the body heat coming of off Niall.

 

It's pretty quiet and he's tried his best to nurse the little tiredness he was feeling into actual sleep but nothing has succeeded yet.

 

“Zayn” his voice startles him.

 

“Yeah”

 

“Where's Pop?”

 

Silence. Then, “some guys came, they took him to a hospice.” Guessing he deserves to know as much seeing as he's the only one who has asked about it.

 

“I'm sorry”

 

“Why, you didn't do anything wrong”

 

“I wasn't there”

 

Zayn could say ‘me too’, in fact that's probably what he should say but he feels for Niall's hand behind his back and holds onto it. When he turns around, he's met with Niall's crystal gaze, open and clear, like a page in a book. Zayn squeezes his hand.

 

“You been ok?”

 

After considering the question for a while, he looks away and says, “my Ma, she worries sometimes.”

 

Zayn waits for him to continue. “She forgets things sometimes. At first it was just little things, like keys and stuff but one time she asked me how to spell my name. I thought it was funny and told her she shouldn’t’ve given me a weird name but she really didn't remember how it was spelt.” He queitens but keeps going.

 

“She locks me in my room sometimes. You know she hasn't been the same since Greg died...” more silence. His eyes are still set elsewhere. Zayn’s aware of the magnitude of what he's saying and how much it is physically taking out of him to say it but the darkness swallows so much.

 

“You know you could always stay here if it gets too heavy” He doesn't answer but it's not necessary. It was a hard sell.

 

He lifts his chin in the crook of his forefinger and does the only thing he can think of doing. He kisses him. Warmth bubbling when Niall returns the pressure.

 

~

 

Harry knows, he's happy he doesn't have to maneuver his way round the both of them anymore. Liam smiles sheepishly but says nothing. And it’s cool. That's the way it stays, for a while anyway.

 

Then one November night Louis comes scraping at Zayn's door. The only thing Zayn notices is his bloodied clothes plus he can barely hold himself up, he breathes out “I told you that Pookie was a lying bastard” and he collapses to the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck, I know

9 pounds 3 ounces. 

That’s what she said the chart read. Those eyes, that hair. 

Liam says, “You guys got some strong genes.”

Louis says, “D could've laid off the chicken and waffles.”

Niall says, “kinda looks like you.”

Harry was busy nibbling on its cheeks when he thought nobody was looking.

 

~

 

Things happened too fast after that night. It was a couple of stab wounds and a lot of blood loss. Zayn had to drag him by his feet into the living room, nearly tear down his mother's bedroom door and remember that this is not the first bloodied shirt he’s going to have to throw out. 

After struggling to start up their piece of shit Volvo, keeping his sisters away from the chaos and flooring it to the nearest hospital Louis was still keeping a tight lid on what really happened to him. Zayn could call him an ungrateful fucking asshole but that would be raising the bar as far as his value in this world is concerned. 

L’s sisters don’t believe what happens to him. They flood the waiting room, it’s suddenly noisier and more lively than any hospital should ever be. His mother rushes to find Zayn’s, leaving him in the thick of things and it becomes more evident why Louis is the way he is, with everyone struggling to be heard. Zayn doesn’t know whether he should begin a head count or not before he gets ambushed by a wayward gang of pastel colored gowns and flowery fleece slippers.

They stitched him up nice and tight now he's tethered to his mother's couch. One right under his ribcage, one on his shoulder. He's lucky that first didn't get him good ‘The streets’ are forever grateful for the respite but he’s being stubborn about it but he’s going to have to cough it up one way or another. Zayn’s mother pulls him aside, says she’s not going to harbor criminals in her house with much less panache but with all the seriousness in the world and the fact remains he’s gonna have to cough it up. 

“I want a dog,” L exclaims while he’s still confined to his house after an exhaustive discussion on the credibility of the Penthouse Forum entries. “A little brown and white mutt. Like a Shih Tzu or something.”

“Are you upping your dose on those pain meds?”

“What pain meds? I was waiting for some Percocet or somethin’, might as well be fucking aspirin,” he rattles the bottle for good measure. “Nah man I’m serious though, I wan’ a dog.”

Going for his most matter-of-fact tone and ignoring the dig because if there’s anyone who really knows how to insult you it’s your best friend, “Ok L I believe you. Now are you gonna tell me what happened?” Louis tightens the blanket around his shoulders, smiles and looks away. 

That much is anticipated. He bows his head and starts checking off ways he could hack this because the direct approach doesn’t seem to be working much. And leave it up to Louis to give the impression he’d appreciate ‘No BS’ but that must be bullshit of its own design too.

“Will you look at that,” Zayn raises his head and follows his lead, begrudgingly. A light pelt of snow is falling outside the living room window. “Didn’t snow much last winter.”

Zayn hums wondering when L took note of things such as snow cover. But he also knows about the copy of The Prince L’s kept buried under his mattress since he was 14. And, that book, where it is, a proper testament, it’s something he doesn’t like thinking about, of lost potentialities and deferred dreams. 

He nods, “yeah…yeah…”

 

_

 

Liam’s heartbroken and it’s a sorry sight. He doesn’t wear his defeated look with much grace. Actually it’s like he’s decided not to hold back at all, his hand even covers his mouth in shock at one point when they’re breaking the news to him. Ni and Harry share a look as soon as that happens. 

Of course this means that he must see L immediately and the gas burns rapidly on his way there but it’s all a means to an end.

Louis looks ashamed, which doesn’t happen with much regularity but it’s really something when it does. Liam seems hang up on how he spent Thanksgiving in a hospital bed, like there have never been worse tragedies in the world than that one there. Maybe there haven’t. Liam insists on going to see him every day until he’s better after that whatever the case.

Zayn asks him one day to his car, “Like, I know you think he’s cool or look up to him and all that but why are you going through all this trouble for him. He’s a big boy.”

As natural as anything Liam scrunches his face up in confusion looking like whatever Zayn just said made no sense at all. “Huh?”

“I’m saying you don’t always have to be so nice to him. He kinda deserves it sometimes” haha he probably could’ve used a little more finesse with his words but it was not like it was some state secret. 

Liam puffs out his cheeks searching for whatever will come easiest and quickest, he says, “what if he didn’t.”

“You really believe that?”

He’s quiet while vapor streams from him, before he says, “I dunno but it’s a horrible thought and nothin’s ever that simple anyway.”

That’s solid reasoning, Zayn can appreciate that but it doesn’t alleviate the budding fear that’s touching him to the bone because if nothing else it guarantees him that something awful is on the horizon.

 

~

 

Just to see the red creep from the center of his chest to the apple of his cheek; he'll shove Zayn away and tell him to fuck off or stop being such a dumb shit maybe even that he hates him but that doesn't mean the color will wash away any bit.

He’ll say nothing in response and watch him scramble and try to pull his shirt back down. He’ll keep his eyes on him and wait till he looks to the side. Yes, he will decide it’s the best time to say ‘you’re really something, you know that. Might just steal you away one of these days.’ 

A few seconds will pass and he’ll smile through his caving willpower, saying ‘you’re full of shit man’ and smile some more. Zayn will then bite his lower lip and push his thumb into the inflamed flesh flowering at his side. It won’t matter if the laugh that’ll be heard will only fall into place to cover up the fact that the punch he gets in the arm actually hurts because no matter what, he’ll still have heard the slight whimper that Niall gives. 

_

Zayn trudges through the snow that fell the previous night and it’s 4 in the afternoon but it looks like it should be closer to nightfall. He can feel the cold slowly seep into his toes and brings his scarf over his nose. He supposes he should’ve paid more attention to the news if they had the deal on exactly what a drag climate change would turn out to be. The only thing visible is his eyes and still he feels like he’s exposing too much skin like too much skin is feeling the cold.

He bets downtown looks so pretty right now. With all of the lights in full effect, snow clinging to awnings and bare tree branches, lining the streets. The park, almost certainly a ghost town by now, but wispy and luminous. Like those brochures at the dentist’s office with the shimmering people with the too big smiles on the shimmering beaches and their inaccessible guarantees to shimmer just as equally.

He spots the clear path from the street to the front door and figures it’s all good. Passing by the entrance he makes his way towards the window, does his thing waiting for the word. 

“Will you fucking get in, my balls is falling off,” Niall exclaims from the door while Zayn shakes his head and is surprised his eyelids aren’t frozen shut.

He urges him into the house locking the door shut behind him. Once inside Zayn stands in the middle of the living room still decked out and doesn’t make any move to do away with his excess layers. He looks at Niall through the window he left for his eyes and he doesn’t seem very pleased at all.

“Take that shit off and you’re getting the floor wet with your boots.” When it becomes evident he’s not going to comply Niall comes forward and starts undoing the buttons on his coat. He pushes it off his shoulders falling to the carpet with a soft thud and pulls the gloves off his hands one after the other. 

As soon as he’s done, he unzips his second coat and pulls off his beanie, taking a step closer. He unwinds the scarf from around his neck. “Fuck are you smiling for?” Zayn doesn’t say anything and doesn’t stop smiling either. At this distance he can feel Niall’s breaths fanning on his neck and it’s an entirely different type of cold he feels every time he inhales. 

Niall’s hands are unwavering as they search for the hem of Zayn’s jumper and it gets peeled off just as easily. But, 

he stops, drags out a deep breath and looks up. It’s like he’s waiting for something but doesn’t really say it. Zayn thinks it’s best if he keeps his mouth shut, try and go with the flow of things. So they stand and stare and wait while the living room lights flicker and Zayn thinks this is the weirdest thing he’s ever done. And he can’t bring himself to stop.

_

“What’d he tell you?” Niall asks unfolding himself from his well-worn blanket. 

Zayn slouches further into the couch tipping his head back trying find a sensible way to say whatever he has to say, “he told me he couldn’t tell me.”

It only makes sense the way Niall raises his eyebrows at him should make him look as cartoonish as he does. “I guess in his head it adds up but I dunno, can’t really force him to do shit.”

He shrugs, “guess so” and goes back to watching the TV. After a little break Zayn says, “I think my mom knows.”

Niall stops poking around his bowl of cereal all at once, “how do you figure that?”

“Think she’s always known.”

He doesn’t really give anything away as he downs the sugary milk in one go.

 

~

 

“You gonna try it out”

Zayn could smack Liam across the face. He really could. If he wasn’t hovering over his shoulder right now he’d knock his fucking lights out. He and his fucking timing.

“No. Try what out?”

What’s funny is how excited he looks when he says, “that writing thing” like he set the whole thing up on his own.

“What writing thing,” Zayn wasn’t planning on trying to explain himself today so this isn’t going to fly.

“There’s only one thing left on the notice board Z?” 

“Yeah, and?”

He deflates, “ok man. You should try it though,” and he gets back on his route to class. 

“Try what out?” Zayn yells after him while he watches him disappear. He proceeds to pocket the flyer after Liam has gone round the bend.

 

~

 

This was never supposed to be some routine even though that’s exactly what it’s turning out to be. More than anything he wishes he could bring himself to get out of the bathroom every Sunday at 11 am. Turning a knob shouldn’t be this difficult, should it? Even as his little sister sits on the floor on the opposite side of the door promising him not to eat of his plate or bother him when he’s reading if he just comes out.

She’s probably wearing that blue dress with all those little bows.

He bought her that dress.

 

Zayn doesn’t come out until the house is completely quiet. He knows everybody is probably pretty tired with him. And that tired would be an understatement. 

Everybody’s tired. It makes no difference if he takes a second to think about it. If he went out or if he stayed locked in the bathroom. The man on the bed and the man in front of him will remain strangers forever.

 

~

This secret he could guard with his life but he apparently can’t hide whatever compelled him to rub one out while his friends were a few feet away. 

Louis escapes from house arrest some weekend and he wants out like he’s never seen the winter air before. The first place he goes is directly to Zayn’s apartment. He doesn’t seem apologetic especially since his mother’s going to have a stroke once he realizes he’s gone. But it might not be the time to pick and choose. Louis is, he’s excited. He’s got this big grin, his coat in his hand; his beanie coming right over his eyes but he’s face is red when he says, “Wanna go out?” and it seems honest enough that he actually spent a fair amount of time considering it before coming over.

Zayn looks him over like this was a whole other Louis, nothing and nobody like the one he knows and replies, “yeah.”

They round the block going over to Harry’s place. Harry’s securely in hibernation mode. He answers the door in what looks like a sleeping cap and a scowl. 

“Fuck you guys want?”

“Get your gear, we’re going out,” Louis explains. He shuts the door where they stand. It’s not until they start banging down the door, yelling about how he might have gotten VD from Jade and telling and ‘Harry should really get checked out’, ‘you think?’ with raised eyebrows plus a fair amount of certitude, that he finally opens up.

Zayn offers to go get Niall himself letting the two go their way ahead of him. It would be entertaining, but not really, the way Niall smirks when he hears why he’s come all the way to his little corner of the neighborhood. “Just come, will ya. L even broke out of the house for this.”

He shakes his head, smiles but follows him anyway. Taking the opportunity to crowd in around him in a darkened alley between the side of a building and his own body on the way there.

It’s a party. Some guy, name’s James or Josh or Jim, something. Was at the same high school. It’s noisy and it’s already over flown over onto the street by the time they arrive but it isn’t too bad yet, plus he pulls out Tears for Fears on occasion so he’s ok in Zayn’s book.

L’s easy enough to spot in the dense clump. He’s s a little drunk, a lot loud and very very excited in the center of the living room because anywhere else would simply be a tragedy. If Zayn didn’t know any better he’d have guessed he was blasted, a little alcohol and a little something else. 

He grabs Niall by the shoulders, face still so red and puts his arms around him. "Where you been mothafucka." Niall giggles a bit in front of him like he also can’t believe this is what is currently happening. He shoves his cup into his hand and gets the back of his shirt pulled back by somebody to some distraction or other. 

The music’s some gritty overbearing electronic mess and the two them stand there taking the scene in. Niall nods his head lightly to the music with no real conviction and Zayn slowly loses interest in the rest of the party. The time feels about right anyway, because when he scans what’s happening on the ground their eyes meet and he has to look away. He turns his head smiling and he notices her.

She’s doesn’t seem intoxicated at all if he had to judge just by the looks of it. Actually she seems very focused, Zayn feels like he’s right under a spotlight with the heat coming off her steadfast gaze. One of her friends is hanging onto her shoulder for support but she doesn’t even seem to notice or at least mind the dead weight or that her shirt is halfway down her chest.

The corners of her lips raise ever so lightly and he decides maybe it might be time to get away. Niall has somehow been snagged by some two-tone, with dark roots and tiny shorts onto the makeshift dance floor. 

As he rushes towards the basketball ring and pushes past faceless bodies he can feel her eyes boring holes into the back of his head. They were so bright.

He wrings his hand a couple of times, wonders if it shows on his face plus the music for some reason feels louder outside than it did in the living room. There’s a few casualties of the night lying on the grass, some couple groping in the dark but nothing much happening. 

“Hey” and Zayn wonders why he repeatedly makes the wrong choice over and over again. He turns around thinking there’s not too many ways around this.

“Hey”

The lights from the party dance around them. “You ok, you kinda bailed on me in there.” On me.

“I’m cool. Listen Per nothing’s gonna happen here,” he could swear it escaped him before he could catch up with his mouth.

Her light brows raise, mouth forming a small ‘O’, “um, ok.” 

For someone who tries to pace his words it’s funny the only thing he could think to say right now is, “Sorry”. 

Perrie shrugs and looks around. She takes a step forward, clutching her arms around herself and it's strange looking at her in this light.

Something hurts, he’s not too sure what but something definitely hurts. 

“I just...,” words truly are terrible things. She taps her boots on the gravel a couple of times and when she looks back up that something shows. 

“I missed you, you know,” Zayn thinks ‘no no no, not now.’ Her voice seems to have acquired a new scratchy, whiskey and rye, wearisome quality that he doesn't recall being there before. 

She shivers, “Gus' been wonderin' where u flew off too. Nobody there to jack half his stash.” She huffs out a silent laugh. There can only be a hush after that. 

He hopes maybe the silence is adequate but she's still stuck there looking too hopeful. The purple lights from inside giving the side of her face a gauzy glimmer. And Zayn would've given everything for this moment before. When she acquiesced in his hands and to the street. When she could tie one off in her sleep, give a slow smile and shove the change in the raspberry band of her skirt.

~ 

It's later in the night, much later after Harry's deep asleep in some powdery pink bed and L is probably passed out near a storm drain, Niall asks him why he did what he did. Why he turned down Per, why he didn't make her rounds with her, why... For a second Zayn thinks he's heard something wrong.

“You know I can't do that no more,” he says and that should be a suitable answer.

“Why?” Niall asks although it looks like he already knows. Zayn keeps staring back at him, even when he adds, “you should ‘av”

~

Harry hears from his sister right in the doldrums of the Christmas break. She gives him a call and he almost doesn't recognize her voice. They all stop the lazing around and whatever humdrum conversation they were having because the situation begs for it. But not even one minute in and Zayn feels that their presence is slightly intrusive. 

Harry turns away from them making his voice diminish to a rumbling murmur. He doesn't seem terribly agitated by the conversation or his sister for that matter but he's curled into himself enough for them to realize that it's not all right. The apparent hush in the room would have been an ample indication anyway. 

“So yeah, Z like I was saying, I got a battle scar like you wouldn't believe,” and L does his bit in providing a distraction and largely relishing the attention.

He lifts up his shirt showing a clean pink scar on his side about an inch and a half long. It almost looks meticulous, daintily done. “Yup that's...a battle scar right there.” Niall sniggers his way through the statement.

“Fuck you. Like you have anything better,” he quickly covers himself up. 

Niall smiles eyes low and lazy with his head on the seat of the couch and without meeting L in the middle he says, “I don't, but I wouldn't be sayin’ that in public.”

“Yeah, whatever you're....” Zayn tunes it out after that because he hears Harry's laughter while he’s on the phone. It's not right and it's certainly not in good taste what he's doing but it suddenly seems like there's nothing more important than trying to figure what is being said over the phone.

His hands begin unfurling strands at the back of his head, Zayn can see the edge of his smile creasing the corners of his eyes, his mouth. If he hadn’t seen him before like this, over diffrent matters though, it would be a very strange happening. He says ‘cool’ and ‘can’t wait to see ya’ and hangs up after that.

Zayn looks away too fast and too emphatically for it to not be noticeable. As sure as anything Niall has his eyes on him. It’s only a second but they both get it. 

Harry taps his thumbs a couple of times on his thigh and spins on his heel. “It was Gem. She says she wants to see me, us.” He motions and the news would still be suspect but the worst part is the blush creeping up his neck. Like when ‘that Nick guy’ said it was a shame he wasn’t interested in joining in the fun.

“Oh yeah? She still single?” Louis speaks up, raising all their eyebrows.

“Fuck off L,” Harry says even though he’s brimming with his smile. It looks like he’s struggling to contain it.

“What? Never got how her fine ass was your sister anyway,” L adds but quickly drops the topic in favor of cursing at the TV for obviously sabotaging his gaming efforts. 

He finally lets go of the receiver and eventually plops himself next to Zayn on the couch. If these were other circumstances he would’ve ignored Harry’s incessant drumming on the floor, his blatant inattention or even that spaced-out look on his face but not anymore. He’s not an asshole though, he’s not going to call him out in front of L or even Niall for that matter so he keeps the tempo waiting for the best moment. He expects evasiveness. 

It might be a coincidence, or not, but maybe Niall senses it because he stretches himself out, gets up and says that he’s leaving. This seems to knock Harry out of his trance, “why? It’s not even that late.”

Glancing down at Zayn, he replies, “It’s gonna get dark soon, can’t keep Ma waiting.” And it’s peculiar how their interactions in public have been whittled down to glances and whispers. Sudden onset wariness and a complete avoidance of physical contact. If Zayn was on the outside looking in, he fails to see how it wouldn’t be obvious that there’s something going on between them. 

He gives Niall a tight smile and a nod while he puts on his coat and his scarf. “Try not to look too disappointed,” Niall chides from the door and it’s unprecedented. So much so that Zayn says nothing else until he’s gone. Only L’s ‘motherfuck’s and ‘fucking shit’s are left.

“Harry,” he snaps his fingers by his ear, “what exactly did Gemma say?” Having to confirm that L is distracted and disinterested is always a chore enjoyed by approximately nobody but he still has to talk under his breath to make sure L doesn’t hear.

“Nothing much, just that she might be coming ‘round here soon.” The look on Harry’s face almost makes whatever Zayn is attempting to do not worth the trouble. All of them have had tough upbringings but for some reason it seems the more people let Harry down, the more he fights to pour all his trust in them. Zayn could do a play by play of how Harry’s sister’s visit will go, with a very narrow margin of error but he feels like a shithead the more he thinks about it.

“So, you wanna see her?”

“Yeah man, haven’t seen her in ages. Didn’t even think she still remembered the number,” he lets his smile wane. 

“She’s my sister man, I don’t have anyone else,” and it becomes clear he must have already realized where the conversation is going. Zayn knows, has always known he’ll never fully understand the shoes Harry fills day in day out. He might be the youngest and it does show but without a doubt he’s the most resilient. Because it’s not just anyone who would put their heart on the line in such a clawing way awaiting inevitable heartbreak and do it all over again because they believed in you. 

Zayn does all he can to soldier on, “nah man, you got us. Plus you remember what happened last time?”

When he does look Zayn in the eye there’s no playful spark, no light just the cold hard fact that Harry won’t back down from this and that he was foolish to not notice that he’s not the only one who’s changed. 

“That was a long time ago Z,” he almost looks tired saying that, like it’s been on his mind a few times before.

“It was 2 years ago. It ain’t that long ago,” Zayn only slightly manages to keep his voice low enough. “You remember how she was.”

“Let it go Z, I don’t…” he turns away, “you’re being hella’ judgmental for someone in your position. I don’t tell you how to live.”

By all indications he seems ashamed and so he does the most appropriate thing storming off in anger that serves only to cover up his guilt. Zayn feels like he’s been slapped in the face. 

L who has overheard the entire conversation stares up at him from the floor, confused and a little put out from the look of things.  
The ‘hood man. He shouldn’t be surprised that it happened. The ‘hood. 

_

They huddle around a trash can fire on a particularly icy December night under some deteriorating overpass. It’s cold but the atmosphere’s lively. Rowdy and loud and the fire lights up their faces like nothing Zayn’s ever seen before. Their big round hungry eyes follow the rhythm, it’s Shaffer and he’s spitting 1, 2, 3 these machine-gun verses go over their heads. It’s blood on the street, it’s the unyielding ground beneath their feet, this place where broken spirits meet.  
They all howl ‘ooooohhh’ and scatter in their laughter. Zayn silently wishes these nights lasted forever.

Chauncey notices him and yells, “Malik!” wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading Zayn to the center of the circle. 

~

It began easy enough, pushes and shoves, snide remarks when they were around the rest of the boys down the street, nothing too serious or alarming really where L is concerned. Somehow that intensified to watching what they said even more than usual and that one time when Zayn got pulled aside by his downstairs neighbor being told, “yo’ boy be wildin’,” when all he was trying to do is get into the apartment.

They had been occurring sporadically so most of it could be disregarded. Zayn could probably guess that there’s no one time L had not pissed somebody off. But it was becoming questionable. 

So the tires get lifted off his mother’s car and L acts like it’s nothing. 

It becomes harder to do and that much is apparent. L surrenders soon after a brick gets thrown through his living room window.

“Listen don’t get mad,” he’s already looking defensive and he hasn’t even started saying the important parts to his confession.

“I won’t,” Zayn shifts his weight around on the window sill, and he knows if anything, he’ll get angry.

Louis awaits a reaction from him after which he says, “See it was Pookie, who got me.”

“I know that L, why did he though?” he puts a considerable amount of emphasis on the ‘why’. 

He looks down and presses his hands into his arm pits taking a pause, “I started slangin’.”

His eyes are downturned so it doesn’t meet Zayn’s end when he tries to stare at him. “What?” he asks, even though there’s this little part of him which was just waiting for this moment to arrive. 

“I started slangin’” he repeats when Zayn wishes he would shut up for a second.

“Slangin’ what?”

“What?”

Zayn grits his teeth and says, “what are you moving?”

He shrugs acting like he couldn’t be bothered, “a little ragweed” he then looks up for a second, then back down.

“What else?”

It comes out like a whisper, “black rock.” 

“Louis, what the fuck is wrong with you,” Zayn feels out of breath. He feels light headed.

“Z c’mon,”

“Don’t L, just don’t. Who are you moving that shit for?” seems easier to get to the bottom line. 

“Fish. Why Pookie did what he did.” This could have to be one the most calm and most consistent conversations they have had together. L is answering questions like he was reading them off a list, he’s kept his composure for the most part and he hasn’t’ started calling him names yet. Zayn realizes now how scared he must really be. Now if he could just figure out what to say.

“L…”

“Z, I know ok, I know it was some dumb shit I got myself into. But what’s done is done.”

He might have tried to think about his situation objectively but it still does not provide any solution to the problem. “Don’t say shit like that when you know the only way out is in a body bag.”

L becomes significantly stirred after Zayn says those words. He looks up, face set in a tight glower and it’s just another interaction between them now.

“I thought about all that already. But I can’t live the rest of my life bein’ nothin’ but a fucking burnout. Z if you can’t recognize that then we ain’t finna’ bein’ boys.”

There were no rose colored glasses provided in the draw to these lucky lottery winners. Zayn has thought about this before. If they ever stopped being friends. It always remained an ‘if’ though, because for some reason and by some miracle L always came through. For that reason his thoughts for the most part remained invalid. 

So here he was locked in a stare match with his closest friend, who, when Zayn sat down and thought about it might not have been that close, seeing as he saw the necessity in keeping this defining thing about him hidden from Louis. 

“Drop the bullshit L, can’t lie your way out of this one.”

“Lyin,’ I’m not lyin’. We can’t be road dogs… no more if you feel some type a’ way ‘bout this shit.” Zayn would be the most reckless person he knows if he was to fall into L’s smoke and mirrors foolishness. He probably planned how this entire exchange would go beforehand. And it really does take a genius to play an idiot. It makes Zayn incensed because even after all this time Louis stays true to himself by being as selfish as he possibly can be.

“Now I’m only gonna say this once, so you better listen and listen good. I love you like I love my brother but I’ll be damned if I trust you,” and Zayn never thought he’d be saying those words out loud to anyone. He thinks back to a few months ago and realizes that most of the conversations he has had since the summer ended have been like this, grueling. 

Something crumbles before L’s eyes and his eyebrows clench so hard his eyes are barely visible. He holds it while Zayn waits for the fallout. Louis grips the window sill his knuckles turning dead white. Zayn would prep himself and duck before the hit comes but a part of him thinks he maybe he has it coming. L on the other hand, grits his teeth and scratches the paint under his fingernails pulling away from the window and out of the apartment.

~

“You know you're being kinda hard on him,” is the first thing Niall says when he tells him what happened. 

Zayn opens his eyes, “are you being for real?”

“Yeah, why'd you think i'm not?” Niall's at the center of the bed rather expressionless.

Zayn gets up on his elbows, “seriously?”

“Serious as a heart attack,” he starts flipping the covers and under the stray clothes on his bed, “where the fuck the M&Ms at?”

“You’re sayin’ L was right or something?”

He quickly drops his scavenging and lets out a breath, “I’m not saying nothin’ like that. Thing is, I know you can’t just drop him like that. Who knows what might happen.”

“What do you want me to do then,” frustration creeping into his tone.

“I’m not your moms Z, I’m not gonna tell you what to do. I dunno,” Niall brightens up a fraction, “it’s not a good look, he might catch a body, might get got, then what?”

He sits up and pulls Niall in by his collar. He adjusts grudgingly while Zayn works at smothering his protests with his mouth.

~

Harry’s sister’s visit goes as expected. 

She must have used public transport because there’s a marked absence of a car sitting outside the house when she shows up. So whatever parasite is living off of her must have either not bothered to tag along or…who really knows.

She looks drawn. Like she hasn’t caught a whiff of sleep in months and Harry hugs her with all his fucking might. The three of them stand by the sidelines looking like lost kids in a new school and feeling painfully out of place. 

Most of the visit includes Harry putting on his winning smile and trying his best to fill her in on everything that has happened since they last saw each other. Which are quite a few things. He makes an effort at including all of them in the conversation but it’s a hit and a miss and Zayn thinks that maybe it would’ve gone a little smoother if they weren’t around. Every time Harry’s smile falls it’s pretty fucking heartbreaking because it still happens despite everything. Even when it’s clear he tries very hard.

The other problem being what great lengths L goes in ignoring Zayn. Expressing his feline qualities to their maximum potential when he passes questions over Zayn’s head as they sit next to each other on the couch. For some reason Niall finds the entire ordeal unendingly funny as he stifles his laughs in his sleeve.

Gemma says she got a job as a waitress some place, she has a tiny place across town with running water but no central heating and she has a new boyfriend. Harry seems genuinely pleased as he hugs her a few times in the middle of her communicating the new advancements. She tells Harry he should come see it sometime. 

Zayn is just about to erase all prior negating thoughts from his mind when she asks if their mother moved the stash. There’s a jar underneath the sink that Harry has kept going for a while after his mother eventually gave up trying to keep it operational and told him he was a grown man after all. Harry drops in whatever he has at whatever given time, it was almost at 300 dollars the last time Zayn was around when Harry counted it.

Harry looks supremely confused at first but he connects the dots in a quick sweep. Gemma sits expectant and he finally casts his eyes on the floor and says, “nope.”

She lights up like a Christmas tree and goes rummaging under the sink. They sit staring with the words stuck in their throats. Zayn and L’s eyes gravitate towards each other wordlessly.

After she finishes stuffing the crumpled bills into the woolen pockets of her oversized sweater, Harry gets up and leads a perplexed Gemma her out of the room. At the door he whispers at her ear, “don’t come back.” 

They continue staring at each other with absolutely nothing to say. And Zayn gets a vague recollection of the two of them on Harry’s front porch. With different results.

~

“I’m only here because...”

L raises his eyebrow in a way that makes Zayn feel like he’s the one on the wrong but he looks past that. There are bigger things to deal with anyway. So he musters through by pure force of will and has to keep in mind that L’s sisters are all in the next room taking turns swooning over an August Alsina poster. 

“All I wanna know is why, you did what you did.”

L sets himself back on the bed after he had gotten up to open the door and actually succeeds in looking serious. “Z, the last time I saw my father he passed me on the front porch and told me to be good. That was such a long time ago, asshole still manages to show up and impregnate my moms every time it looks convenient to him and disappears into the ether. Niall doesn’t even know who his fucking father is and that poor bastard Harry thinks his dad is coming back after 12 fucking years.” Zayn can feel the next words sift right through him as L says them, “Your dad is the only man I ever known and look at the shitty hand he got dealt.” He looks away for a moment and then looks back at him.

“We didn’t ask for any of this shit but here we are. I’m not gonna sit around here get 6 kids and scrape by till I die. Somebody’s gotta provide.” Louis looks up at him and he’s being open and he’s being honest. Not without that facetious bravado of his, but honest nonetheless. 

“I would’na told ya any of that stuff if I didn’t think you was important, alright,” which is also not a question. 

Zayn firms up his resolution and quells whatever urge he has to hold L very tight. “But what if something goes wrong, ‘cause you know somethin’ will.” 

He straightens up, “then I’ll just deal with it when it happens.”

“Your family L?” Zayn says with his hands in fists in his pockets.

He shakes his head some of his hair falling over his eyes, “I ain’t dealing with kingpins here exactly,” his smile breaks off the statement.

Zayn looks at him without returning the smile. L smacks him on the arm and says, “We’ll be making Big Meech money in no time.” Zayn wants to punch him in the face after that.

_

He goes back home still shook up especially following the way L tells him he needs his help. 

He doesn’t give him an answer. In making his plea L stated, “I can’t ask Harry, his buster-ass won’t help. Can’t ask Niall, ninja’s soft.” Which suspended Zayn’s thoughts, wanting more than anything to ask him what he meant by ‘soft’ but knowing it might lead in a direction he’s not quite ready to go.

~

So Zayn against his better judgment, proper reasoning and his mother’s eyes which deconstruct him in an instant he helps L in whatever dangerous affair he so urgently immerses himself into. Louis doesn’t say anything about what the plan exactly is only that he needs a right hand man.

They get under some grimy streetlight, with L’s copper hair catching in the orange glow and he puffs out his breaths. But after a few minutes Zayn understands why L didn’t tell him anything about anything. 

Gage and a couple of his goons make their way toward them and by the look of things as soon as Gage realizes that it’s Zayn with L he boils over. 

“No fucking way, L. What the fuck is he doing here?” he makes his feelings known to L and apparently the entire block with the intensity of his voice. 

“Chill out man, he’s cool, he’s cool,” L gets in his way when he makes a beeline in Zayn’s direction. L puts his hands up in a show of peace but it does just about nothing to decompress the thrombosis that has taken over the blood vessels in Gage’s neck.

“I told you no fucking ni**as and that includes no fucking sand ni**as,” he says wholeheartedly directed to Zayn. Now Gage is not necessarily a big guy but he’s definitely bigger than either of the two of them. Plus Zayn knows they hang out in garages and construction sites being lifting whatever can pass as weights and generally being venous and angry as they wait for whomever it is they think will take over the world to finally come into force. So Zayn’s a little more than surprised that L is able to hold him off but his other two pals seem to have gotten somewhat roused where they had stopped a little way away.

“Man back the fuck off. I told you he’s down!” L just nearly shouts. Zayn thinks he’s been pretty calm the whole night, he even wore his mandatory scowl with pride but he starts to panic a smidgen especially when Gage’s lackeys reach them. 

“Hey what’s going on here,” Dickhead #1 says. Louis stops pushing against Gage at that moment when he sees they’re clearly outnumbered. Dickhead #2 shoves him off unnecessarily and he hits the ground. 

“L brought his little friend here to a drop,” Zayn shivers and attempts to steel his scowl when all the attention gets shed on him.

Dickhead #1 who seemed a little more subdued than the other two says, “this motherfucker got a little sugar in his tank.” Everyone including Louis looks at him.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” L voices struggling to get up from the snow. If Zayn knew this was what would happen because of trying to be a decent friend, he would have never woken up in the morning. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dickhead #1 continues, “him and that Irish kid. Krueger said he sees him hanging around his place.” And as soon as he mentioned Niall, Zayn turned catatonic because he cannot for the life of him remember what it feels like to talk.

“Are you kidding me? You’re a bunch of assholes you know that,” L still very lucid, says in his defense. He’s never looked younger than he has at this moment.

The new information apparently gets Gage going with renewed interest. He orders his pals, “get him.” Which definitely wakes Zayn from his stupor. They hold him still by both of his arms and he knows it’s either his face or his stomach that’s going to get it so he waits for the pain to set in.

He doesn’t feel a thing as Gage’s steel-toed boots meet his ribs. Doesn’t feel a thing until he’s on the ground. 

A couple of years ago he got approached by some rep who belonged to the NOI. He talked a big talk but Zayn’s not crazy and he’s not stupid. And he was desperately in love with Niall so a lot of what he said did not make empirical sense. And he ignored all of it, but for all the ‘rising above’ he has had to do he wonders what it was all for. No matter what they’ve been abandoned here by the rest of society for the animals to kill each other off.

Most of it tapers off at the edges and he’s not sure what he’s seeing because if you asked him the next day he’d tell you that L pulled out a gun, there was some yelling and he blacked out after that.

~

D gives birth at the start of the new year. It’s a girl.


	4. The End ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story took so fucking long I feel like I owe readers an apology. Labor of love does not begin to describe this lol. Anyway my main objective for this story was to prove that the boys' friendships could be applied to whatever situation and it could still work, no matter how improbable. Plus it was a fun attempt trying to get into one of their heads (very difficult btw) but I love me some Zayn especially with everything that's been happening with him. I promised myself I would finish this thing so thank you to everyone who decided to make it this far and for accepting this fic as an advertisement for my musical tastes hehe. This fic is like a crash course in spelling mistakes, grammatical errors and typos which I'll correct one day, so yeah till next time, bye.

Zayn’s probably never seen it raining like this before. He takes a detour and wrings out the sleeves of his jumper standing in front door. He takes a step back to take a good look behind him. The building, it’s one of those old brownstone ones with a rosewood door and stained glass windows. The door makes a whiny creak in a cliché that Zayn could roll his eyes at but he keeps going. 

 

The lights are out but that’s nothing to frown about with the rain. His shoes cause a thud on the linoleum flooring and the wet squeaks echo off the walls and into the darkness.

 

There’s a candle lit in the confessional and it’s kind of like a moth to a flame, isn’t it? He gets closer, wiping the wetness off his face like he has to look presentable for whoever inside. Which defeats the whole purpose of what he’s about to do. Whatever he’s about to do. 

 

A wooden chair and a screen is inside once he opens the door and he looks down the pews just to make sure. If it was any other time in his life he isn’t sure he would have even set foot into the place, but he’s here now and the chant ‘no time like the present’ resonates in his mind. 

 

He says hello twice, when he hears the door on the other side opening followed by a heavy shuffle. 

 

“Hi,” he says again and coughs just for good measure. 

 

“Hi,” the voice says back. It’s one of those voices. The voice you hear on the other end when a telemarketer calls, the voice in those advertizements that sell products to senior citizens, the voice before the plane takes off. Some no name, no face and he doesn’t think it should be any other way.

 

“I’m not sure how to do this, is it like in the movies?” he laughs something small and tired and it’s amusing only to himself if the silence is anything to go by. 

 

“You don’t come here much?”

 

He shakes his head and feels like an idiot afterward, “nope. I have a friend who used to come here like every Sunday. He stopped though.” And it’s like a new kind of awkwardness all over again.

 

There’s some shifting, a momentary, seemingly contemplative silence, and the voice says, “why don’t you just talk then.”

 

Zayn squints very hard, “I wanna ask you a question. Can I? Like am I allowed to do that?”

 

“If I can answer it, then ask anything you want” 

 

He sniffs and picks at the thread of his jeans, “Um, are you here every day ‘cause it’s Friday and I thought church was only open on the weekends or something.”

 

The voice hums and Zayn looks up from, “it’s my job to be here,” it answers dryly. 

 

The corner of his mouth lifts up and he feels a little sheepish after that. “Oh, OK alright. I’m…oh shit..we’re not supposed to..oh man sorry I cursed. ” He stops and breathes out, “It’s my first time entering this place and my Imam would be pissed..sorry, if he knew what happened but it’s raining too hard for me to make it there so I’m just gonna say some stuff.”

 

Nothing is said in return so he takes that as a sign that he’s free to talk. “One of my friends did something really dumb and he might be in a lot of trouble. Like real trouble. My mom might even throw me out of the house if she finds out.” He stops and looks up, his face a little warmed up, “I..well I was confused at first but not anymore.”

 

He stops again wondering whether he’s actually going to say this out loud to another person. To himself even. Although things are the way they are he has never said it loud before and he knows that must mean something. He supposes he’s still figuring things out as he goes.

 

“I think, I guess I am.” He squeezes his eyes shut, “I’m in love with a boy.” And waits.

 

After a few seconds the scrunched up grimace on his face becomes hard to maintain and he loosens it up. Still nothing. 

 

Zayn’s eyes open slowly like he’s still afraid of what he might see. 

 

“Uh, that’s it. I’m done,” and he can’t help but feel a little irked. Maybe it’s directed more to himself than anyone else, maybe he should have never come here, maybe he should have never helped L in the first place. Still…

 

The voice begins talking with a jump, “Oh, so how did you want me to help you?” 

 

Zayn shrugs, “That thing, tell me what to do.”

 

“Did you really come here for me to tell you what to do?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

The figure stirs and Zayn could swear it’s looking right at him, “if I gave you any advice at all it probably would have no bearing whatsoever on whichever decision you are going to make. Because you feel sorry, you feel guilty but you don’t want to change. You just want someone to tell you everything will be fine.”

 

“That’s harsh,” he mumbles.

 

“It is. But it’s also true. Now go and do what you need to do. So long as you can live with it.”

 

Zayn looks up in disbelief, “that’s some of the most generic advice I’ve ever heard.”

 

“Well you get the same treatment as everyone else, the good stuff, that’s gonna cost you extra.” He chuckles and continues until it’s only the silence in his mind that gives way to this stillness, the eye maelstrom in the deep blue sea.

 

~

 

“You’re not like doing this because…”

 

Z adjusts his leg on the bed spread as a cramp slowly forms under his knee. 

 

“No. I want to do this… Hey, I really want to.”

 

He doesn’t ask any more questions after that but it’s not the usual bubbly starburst reaction Zayn was expecting. “So where’s the stuff?”

 

He gets off the bed saying, “I don’t think my mom got anything extra since like New Year’s man, so we might have to do this with the cheap shit.” Zayn hears from down the hallway.

 

He can’t help the smile that his words carry when he says, “some dude told me I should try a little romance. You should too.”

 

Niall’s soft movements shuffle back into the room, “what? Here.” He hands him a plastic bottle, “this what you had in mind?”

 

By the way he wets his lower lip, he’s not completely joking. 

 

“What is this?” Zayn turns the bottle over in is hand, “Aristocrat, come on man”. 

 

Niall lowers his eyes and the white light from outside, in the blue shade of the room, forms a bar along the bridge of his nose, “You wanna get drunk or you wanna whine?”

 

Zayn untwists the cap off and takes a swig. “Oh fuck,” the nerves in his face just might have frozen, “that tastes like battery acid.”

 

“Gimmie that,” Niall says under a barrage of chuckles. Zayn struggles to eliminate the taste from his mouth but the oily plastic remnant is irrepressible.

 

“I’m not drinking that again.”

 

-

 

An hour later and Zayn feels warm. Not that he has too many layers of clothes on, not that he doesn’t either, but what he feels is a warmth from his core. His fingers are buzzing with need and Niall’s lazily blinking up at the ceiling under the cover of darkness. 

 

“Ni,”

 

“Yup”

 

“I went to see a priest today”

 

“You're wasted”

 

“No, I'm serious. I went to a priest today.”

 

“And?”

 

“I shoulda stayed at home”

 

Niall huffs out a laugh playing with his hair and they both sit in their silence.

 

“Look at me”

 

Niall takes a few moments before getting up on his elbows to see him better, “Yeah?”

 

“Sit up”

 

“Why?”

 

“You know why” Silence. Zayn can only imagine the smirk on his face in the dark. 

 

“Why don’t you come down here?”

 

He rolls his eyes and pulls him up by the belt loops. Niall’s eyes can barely keep open and he looks like he’s having trouble focussing. Which seems like prime time if Zayn has any say in the matter.

 

“Didn’t know you were into Chromeo” he says and taps the beat of the song faintly playing in the background on Niall's knee.

 

Niall raises his eyebrows, “a lot you don’t know ‘bout me.”

 

“Oh yeah, like what?” Zayn asks.

 

“Like I really wanna kiss you right now but I’m not gonna,”

 

He frowns, “why?”

 

“Teasing you’s a lot more fun,” Niall’s expression is completely deadpan so Zayn thinks he’s had quite enough of this cat and mouse thing they’ve been … and closes the distance between them. 

 

Niall doesn’t respond at first which baffles Zayn because he could do this all day, any moment he spends not doing this is probably a moment wasted. He uses a little more force than necessary in getting Niall closer but it’s only after he pulls him in does he get reaction.

 

It’s definitely more urgent than anything they’ve ever done before. The feeling is a little more slick than Zayn would like but he could drink this in forever. Letting Niall’s tongue softly map out the inside of his mouth. 

 

“Are we really gonna do this?”

 

“Stop asking that question”

 

Niall’s lopsided smile that he seems to save for such occasions makes an appearance. He moves to the opposite side of the bed and starts undressing. Zayn stares at the lines and contours his back for a few seconds before he realises he’s falling back. 

 

He scrambles to the other side of the bed and takes off his clothes. He can hear the rustling and puffs of breath Niall is making behind him. It becomes apparent to him just how much they are going to ‘do this’.

 

“You done?” he asks over his shoulder with his underwear still over his knees. 

 

“Yeah,” comes Niall’s reply.

 

He pulls his boxers down all the way and kicks them off, hearing Niall getting up. He follows suit and walks to the foot of the bed.

 

The light out of the window obscures most of what he wants see from view. He can hear Ni snickering though and that doesn’t seem like it would be the most positive sign considering the circumstances.

 

“What’s so funny,” Zayn’s hand instinctively goes to cover is crotch. If he squints the only thing he manages in the dark is Ni’s silhouette and the specks of dark hair on his shins. 

 

“Nothing nothing, it’s just not what I was expecting,”

 

“What were you expecting and quit laughing," he still can't see and he could cross his legs but he's sure he'd look like an idiot.

 

“Take your hand off, I wanna see,” Niall moves closer and Zayn backs away knowing he's already hard and that would be too weird too early. Maybe.

 

“No, I wanna see too”

 

“But I'm not hiding”

 

Zayn's eyes travels up his leg and rest where his thighs meet, “just goin' straight to the good stuff, aren't ya.” And it feels like something has shifted.

 

He moves his hand from his groin and maybe it's because he has a fully naked Niall in front of him and there’s no scenario in which that is wrong. For now, any way he's allowed to do what he wants to do. It's also gnawing on him that he might not get another chance to do it so the sudden burst of confidence seems welcome.

 

Zayn presses his hand into Niall's shoulder, who has also gone quiet and kneads into the bone. He leans in and kisses the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. Leaning back he takes a second and let’s himself look.

 

Niall's not hiding. He's giving himself up, he's giving everything and Zayn hopes, for himself more than Niall, he’s seen that there is no shame in this. 

 

He hits the bed with a muffled thump looking surprised that Zayn pushed him down. Zayn then proceeds to get on his knees in front of him trying to hide the wince because of the sizeable eggplant purple bruise on his side. The sting is gone but the soreness is still there but he'll ignore it and pushes Niall’s legs apart.

 

He likes the way the flesh on Niall's thighs look between his fingers when gets his hand on him and squeezes.

 

“Never done this before, sorry if it sucks. But I really wanna touch you,” Zayn says while leaving hand prints on Niall's thigh. Niall nods and doesn't meet Zayn's eye.

 

Spreading his legs apart, Zayn takes his cock into his hand and is secretly pleased by the way Niall's stomach tightens. He swipes his thumb over the head and a sagging string of precome connects the two of them.

 

Zayn lowers his head and gives some tentative licks. He decides he likes the taste if only for the way it makes Niall fidget under his hands and his mouth. A bit of the length fits comfortably in his mouth and he it swirls around, sucking in and pumping his hand on what's left. 

 

He skims his tongue along the ridge under the head of Niall's cock which causes him to tense up. Zayn does it again and looks up. 

 

Niall's eyes are completely shut, his mouth is slightly open, lower lip glistening. 

 

Zayn pulls off and Niall's eyes open immediately. The words don't have the time to form before Zayn lifts up his knees so that his feet lay flat on the mattress. He buries his face under Niall's balls and sucks the skin into his mouth.

 

The sound that Niall makes is all the reward Zayn needs in the world. He can feel hair at the back of his head being pulled and can hear the wet smack of Niall's hand jacking himself off. 

 

He sucks harder going along the length, gives a little nibble and Niall let's out an 'oh' stilling his hand on himself. Zayn angles his head better to move a bit smoother and pushes Ni's thighs further apart. 

 

He gently tugs at his balls while Niall's breaths come out shallow and fast, “Z...”

 

“Mmmh,” he hums hoping that thing he read online that time holds up. Niall hisses and begins to rock back into Zayn's face.

 

“Z, I'm....,” he pants but Zayn's happier than a pig rolling in shit. He licks and sucks until there's run off dripping down his chin, until he's sure the pleasure is fighting the pain, till he can tell Niall's about to bust.

 

The moment it happens Zayn leans back and watches the waves ripple over him. He becomes fixated on the way his fingers grip the bed spread and the twist of his mouth.

 

“You sure you've never done that before?” Niall says between pants. Zayn wipes the spit of his chin with the back of his hand and pinches Niall’s thigh “I’ve just had a long time to think about it.”

 

Niall makes this gesture with his fingers that is probably supposed to be him calling Zayn over and it's undoubtedly the most romantic thing Zayn's ever heard when he says, voice breathy and all, “c'mon. You can fuck my mouth.”

 

-

 

The next day feels new in many ways. Zayn kisses him on the cheek tells him to lay low and that he’ll see him in a couple of weeks if things go alright. He really hopes things go alright.

 

~

 

He goes to back to school and tries to maintain a routine that holds up for only two days. He’s still waiting for the ball to drop and does his best to avoid clinging to Harry. 

 

It’s three days later when things finally fall apart.

 

8 pm and there’s a loud banging on the door, Zayn not surprised. 

 

He gets to the door before anyone else can get to it. He steps into the hallway and locks the door behind him in one slick motion just missing Louis’ fist by a few inches.

 

L backs up and stares at him for what seems like an eternity, seething. Zayn takes a step forward hand stretched out. L backs up, makes a sound with his tongue and turns around. He heads back down the hallway, he’s leaving and something doesn’t add up. 

 

Zayn has never seen him back away from a fight before. Because that’s where people get him wrong, L’s never not cared to not fight back, he always fights back. And Zayn doesn’t understand, because has their friendship finally reached a breaking point. Does L not care anymore? No matter what Zayn says, has said about him, it’s apparent who carried this friendship on who’s back.

 

“Louis. Louis, Louis!”

 

He stops and faces him, not meeting, “Just tell me one thing, is that shit true?”

 

Of all the things Zayn was expecting to be asked that was not one of them, he recoils and his expression must give him away even before he says anything. 

 

“Ok, man I see how it is. So if I fuck up one time and I'm wrong but all that shit you’ve been doing is just peachy?”

 

Zayn keeps quiet but he knew this would eventually happen anyway with a friendship that’s constantly on its knees. 

 

“Z,” L scratches his brow, makes this sound and says, “and Ni?”

 

Zayn says nothing. L rubs down his face with his hand “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck Zayn. Fuck you and fuck Ni too. You're both pieces of shit. Especially you, talk a big game but you're nothing but a liar. At least Ni knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

 

“L...”

 

“No Zayn, my mother, you go tell my fucking mom what happened.” Zayn inwardly cringes, how juvenile the whole undertaking sounds. “The one time I need you to do this thing for me..”

 

“It wasn't the first time,” Zayn remarks and he's not even sure where the sudden burst of confidence comes from but he knows there's no turning back from this, “that wasn't the first time you asked me to do something I told you I didn't wanna do. But you want me to just follow you around like a puppy. What makes you so special?” He spits.

 

Louis laughs and the disgust in his voice shouldn't astound Zayn as much as it does, “no Z, what makes YOU so special? You're supposed to watch my back, you're supposed to do that. That's what friends do cuz I woulda done the same thing for you, you sack of garbage.”

 

When he says it Zayn will later blame the heat of the moment and L's knack for getting a rise out of him, nonetheless he instantly regrets it, “but I didn't ask you to.”

 

For once Louis doesn't bother with the intricacies of hiding his feelings, he looks genuinely hurt. Zayn wants to reach out and squeeze his shoulder but he's fucked everything up, he doesn't know where he stands.

 

“Ok Z, I saved your life but it’s cool,” his voice is calm, “the skins got popped. Apparently a bunch of punks trying to sell dope to bored housewives in the suburbs is a lil obvious, that's what they needed me for. That's why your skull's not cracked open on the curb right now,” he continues, “I'm moving to Sedona. It's in Arizona, so thanks Z, thank you for that,” and he finishes, “I really don’t wanna see you again.”

 

Louis doesn't waste any time after that bolts down the stairs leaving Zayn in the front of his neighbour’s door with his mouth hanging open with more words on the tip of his tongue that he’ll never get to say.

 

~

 

“You know he’s mad at you”

 

“I think everyone’s mad at me”

 

“I’m not mad at you,” Harry puts his hand on Zayn’s knee. A pause and then he says, “Ni’s not mad at you either.”

 

Zayn looks up because Harry’s tone is too playful for his liking and he’s putting more pressure on his knee than before.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Harry looks away but there’s a smile that has the corner of his mouth twitching, “nothing much,” he turns back at him, “I do know a glow when I see it though.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Harry straightens up, “your oldest friend is gone and Liam blames you for it and for real, you could be a little sadder about it,” Zayn raises his eyebrow at him, “hey I’m not done. All I’m saying’s that something has to have got you so chipper even with everything.”

 

“Number one, I am never ‘chipper’ and number two you can eat a dick,”

 

The look on Harry’s face only shows how stupid Zayn, “can I make a joke outta that, are you gonna like take offence or something?”

 

“Nah do your worst,”

 

“Wait, wait first,” he threads his fingers together, “you ever done that before?”

 

“I’m not answering any questions Harry,” he finds incredible interest in the rip at his knee. 

 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes. How was it?” Harry looks at him from the corner of his eye when he speaks.

 

“What did I say? I’m not answering your questions,”

 

He throws up his hands in defeat, “Ok, damn. You know you keep being such a sourpuss I’ll leave you too and you’re gonna be stuck on this porch, alone,” he says and sticks out his tongue. 

 

Zayn’s dour expression intensifies. Harry shrugs, “too soon?”

 

-

 

Zayn decides that today is the day, he’s going to corner Liam in the boys’ lockeroom and it won’t be gay at all and he’s going to apologize. So he waits until after football practice where Liam always seems to be the last one to leave the pitch. He hovers around the benches taking extra time to make sure he looks as casual as possible before even though he’s sure he’s not fooling anybody with his scrawny arms and BMI of 16. He’s also going to throw out the shorts he’s wearing as soon as he gets done with this.

 

Liam eyes him up at and breezes right past him.

 

“Li wait up.” Zayn gets his hand around his bicep. Liam looks down at where it is but Zayn doesn’t let go.

 

“Look I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t know he’d leave.”

 

He turns his face up saying, “I’m not mad at you. Mostly.” He faces Zayn, “I’m kinda mad at him.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You can let go of my arm now,”

 

He lets Liam’s arm loose and moves to stand in front of him like he’s afraid he’ll get away. “What happened was shitty but I can’t say I don’t understand. He did something wrong but that was also kind of a shitty reaction, you know.”

 

Zayn shrugs, “I know, I wasn’t really sure what else to do.”

 

Liam looks at him in a way that makes Zayn very aware that he’s bony knees are on display for the world to see. “I get it.” He says finally.

“Are we good?” 

 

“We are.” Liam says and looks like he’s going through an inner struggle before carrying on, “for what it’s worth I think he kinda misses you too. He told me not to say anything though. So yeah…”

 

“You two…” he chooses his words very carefully, buy still ends up on “talk?”

 

“Only a couple of times.” Zayn nods and crosses his arms likes some sort of fool who knows nothing about body language.

 

“Look I know you’ve known him forever but he could still surprise you. He’s not so bad if you give him a chance.” Liam walks out the door and down the hallway and this weird sense of déjà vu settles over him that this conversation has happened before, but it was Zayn saying those words to Liam.

 

~

 

“Remember the last time, we did this?” Liam says as he put his feet up on the edge of the couch.

 

Harry lays across his stomach and Liam lets out a sound like the wind has been knocked out of him, “Last time we did this you weren’t hogging the cushions.”

 

“It was when the baby was born, wasn’t it?” Niall says and lifts up Liam’s feet to slip in underneath him on the couch. He cradles his foot and adds, “was like three months ago.”

 

Zayn looks at them from the seat he has made on the coffee table, Harry seems like he’s setting himself up for some sleep when he turns into his side, much to Liam’s displeasure and the entire world, the one that knows who he is, is on that couch and it’s all colored with a tinge of sadness because it looks and feels and is incomplete. 

 

Harry opens his eyes suddenly like he’s just remembered something of ultimate urgency, “3 months ago Liam’s cherry hadn’t popped.”

 

Liam groans and hides his face in the cushion. The redness still spreads down his neck, so tough luck. 

 

“What was her name?” struggling to recall the girl who’s name Liam had simply mentioned under duress, Niall questions.

 

“Anna,” says Zayn because of course he would remember that name for the rest of the time he would continue to know Liam. 

 

It’s muffled from having a mouth full of sponge but he says anyway,” I dunno why I tell you guys anything.”

 

“Cause you have no other friends,” Harry supplies. 

 

Niall laughs trying to fit Liam’s big toe into his hand. “What happened to her?”

 

Everyone’s attention gets directed to the bottom of the couch, “She’s still around, just stopped talking and stuff. I wasn’t gonna marry her or anything.”

 

Harry clutches his arms to his body and says, “Oh that’s cold Li, might just be the coldest thing you ever said.”

 

Zayn looks over at Niall after it becomes clear Liam isn’t up for talking anymore about his virginity and everything that surrounded his losing it. Niall has a glint in his eye, he asks “so who’re you takin’ to prom?” Which catches Harry’s attention because he almost sits up straight and stares at the two of them.

 

“I’m not going to prom,”

 

“Yeah you are,”

 

“I am?”

 

“Yup and you’re gonna wear one of those ugly suits and you’re gonna get a date and you’re gonna reach third base.” Zayn looks away smiling.

 

“You two are weird,” Harry interjects. 

 

“You’re weird too,” Liam says from beneath him. He continues, “by the way Ni you never said what you were gonna do after school.”

“What do you mean? He’s going to college or whatever,” says Harry.

 

It’s strange now because Niall doesn’t answer and he’s intent on wiggling Liam’s toes for him.

 

“What’d you mean?” Zayn asks.

 

Liam turns around so that he can see better and he has a slight sheepish look on his face that has Zayn also slightly panicked. “Oh no.”

 

Niall is still quiet. “What did he mean?” Zayn asks again hoping the desperation he feels doesn’t show in his voice.

When Harry asks, “what’s going on right now?” Niall finally meets his gaze.

 

“You hadn’t told them. Oh shit,” Liam says and pushes Harry off of him to sit up straight. 

 

“Are you not going to school after we graduate?” They hadn’t discussed it, what would happen after school. But Zayn had always assumed they would eventually move out of this place by any means necessary, college just provided the easiest means.

 

From the periphery Zayn can see Liam pull on Harry’s sleeve and make a gesture he won’t be bothered to decipher. The room must be so tense that even Harry’s ability to pick up on non-verbal cues improves exponentially, because he nods and slides off the couch in a move that is supposed to be subtle but is more ham-fisted than anything with the way he drags half the cushion off with him.

 

They scuttle out of the room and leave the stare of in full swing. “When were you gonna tell me? Were you even gonna tell me?” Zayn feels like he should put his hand on his hip like his mother does to show just how serious the situation is. 

 

Niall gets a tight grip around the armchair saying, “I was. Didn’t know when, but I was gonna.”

 

“So what you’re just gonna stay here?” Zayn’s anger shouldn’t be as quick as it still is.

 

“No. I know you’re mad but I don’t…we…this wasn’t gonna last forever,” Ni says with a completely straight face. Zayn wouldn’t consider himself an emotional person. He’s gotten through watching Bambi numerous times without batting an eyelid but this feels as any appropriate time as ever to shed a manly tear. 

 

“I know but...”he gripes.

 

“Z don’t do that,” He shakes his head and almost looks dismissive for a moment, “It’s not like you’re the only one,” it’s almost a whisper and he hides his face in his hands when he says, “in love.”

 

For however long the moment lasts it’s simultaneously one of the happiest and saddest of his life. 

 

“I love you too you know, but I gotta can’t just leave my mom. I owe her that much,” Zayn gets hang up on the ‘too’. He’d never told him that before but he was so head over heels, so stupid, so gone that he didn’t have to. It still shocks him how nobody had guessed sooner how gay he was for Niall.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” there’s a definite hoarseness in his voice. 

“I don’t care how it works.” He gets up and kneels in front of Niall. He raises his head up to see his face better and makes some quick calculations about what he’s going to say.

 

“I can’t like make you make that choice. I’d lose,” he laughs humorlessly while Niall searches his eyes for something. “I just don’t wanna lose any more friends.”

 

“You’re not gonna lose me and we ain’t friends. Just friends I mean.” 

 

Zayn smiles in spite of the mood. He knows there’s no way out of what Niall wants or whatever he’s pictured in his mind. Even when he coaxes him onto the couch and forms a grip on Zayn’s crotch and squeezes until he has only one feeling left. He still doesn’t buy it when Niall pants out ‘half a year max’ instead of catching his breath. Zayn watches and waits for the right time, when Niall bites down on his lip and his eyes cross to follow him over the edge.

 

-  
“Half a year max”

 

“Yeah just till I get my mom’s stuff in order. I just can’t leave her like that,” his face is blotchy in a colour Zayn could only wish he could dream up, “then I’ll go wherever you want me to go.”

 

Out of everything that he says, Zayn chooses to believe this.

~

 

I got your other letters, so you can stop now. And who writes letters anyway, freak. I put my aunt’s number here if you still wanna talk.

 

It’s cool Li wants to be a social worker, it suits him. But Rutgers, come on. I mean the Scarlet and all that bs but he couldv’e at least moved farther away from home. Anyway you, Pratt, that national scholarship thing couldn’t have come sooner, must’ve really wanted to get out. H must feel like shit now that he’s gonna get stuck in the pit alone. 

 

I met a kinda chill dude here btw if you can believe that. He’s called Danny, you’d like him. Not like that, I guess. You know what I mean.

 

Tell your dad I say hi. Ni too.

~

 

I promise this is the last letter, it’s just your mom came to visit and this time she actually gave me something back. She said you were back in school that was pretty nice to hear. If you think this Danny dude is cool then I really gotta meet him.

 

I got a job, (Li forced me into it) it’s copywriting for some newsletter for the youth center. It doesn’t pay much but I gotta make money somehow for college. I went to see Pops again. It’s not great but I’d rather be there when it happens than not, you know. 

I’ll call you before this reaches you and I’m an idiot. Ni says hi back.

-Z


End file.
